


No Ordinary Heart

by HaraJorja



Series: No Ordinary Heart [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 98,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2092941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaraJorja/pseuds/HaraJorja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the love of Albus and Minerva. It follows them from student to professor and beyond. </p>
<p>When two great people love, it will never be easy and Albus and Minerva learn that quickly. Bitterness, betrayal and pain follows them and it seems that they were not destined to be together, no matter what their hearts say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grief

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything, this is just a plot from my imagination using some well loved characters, brilliantly created by JK Rowling.

Part One: Miss

One:

She clutched the letter in her shaking hand, her head bent, leaning on her arm, her knees drawn up. She was silent, tears didn’t come, but she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to look at anything, she didn’t want to see anything but his face- a face she would never see again. Oh, why hadn’t she observed it more closely? Why hadn’t she put to memory every line, every grey bristle, every eyelash? Why could she only see a fuzzy picture, a picture without outline, without definition? Why couldn’t she remember the face of the man she loved so, the man who had been the most important person in the world to her?

“Min?” Ellen White bent down and touched the top of the girl’s head lightly.

 

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.

“Minnie,” Ellen whispered. “I-I’m sorry.”

“I know,” She was being gracious. She wanted to snap back sorry for what? What had she ever lost? What did she understand about this pain? But Ellen was a dear girl, even in her grief, she knew that and she didn’t want to upset her dearest and only friend. “Leave me alone, Ellen,” she half pleaded. “I just want to sit here.”

“You’ve been sitting here all night - you haven’t eaten since this afternoon, you haven’t drank anything - you’re still soaked through from this morning,” Ellen lowered her voice. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“Let me alone!” She cried hoarsely. They were coming, the new round of tears, fresh and stinging. She didn’t want Ellen to see her like this, nobody had seen her crying, why, she hadn’t cried since she was nine and now she found it highly embarrassing for Ellen to see her, to watch her as her heart shattered.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Ellen whispered, turning on her heels reluctantly and scurrying from the dormitory. She knew that Minerva would think that she had won but she was wrong - Ellen wasn’t going to let her best friend suffer in silence all night. She couldn’t sit in the corner, where she could get cold and achey but Ellen wasn’t brave enough to have her head bitten of by that tempestuous girl.

Ellen wasn’t very brave at all. At sixteen, nearly seventeen, she often wondered why she had been sorted into the house of the brave. Ellen hated arguments, tempers, fights and anything dangerous - she liked peace, simplicity and the knowledge that what ever she did was safe. She never spoke to teachers, out of painful timidity, never put her hand up to answer a question in case she might be wrong and never, ever, went to a Professor’s office to speak with them. She was the opposite of Minerva, Minerva was so brave, intelligent and thrilling- she couldn’t understand why other girls didn’t like her. It was probably because they were jealous - Minerva was extraordinary and beautiful as well, with the added charm that she didn’t know it. Yes, Minerva was quite brilliant, she had enough brains, beauty and bravery for them both.

As Ellen walked silently through the dark corridors, she could hear her heart banging in her ears. She had never been out this late, had never felt so alone but she needed to help Minerva. That was what drove her to the little, dark door and what forced her to knock on it, so late at night. She waited as she heard an urgent march and when the door was flung open, she went red with embarrassment and fear.

“Prof- Professor, Minerva is-“ she stumbled. It was clear that she’d woken her head of house up. He still looked dozy, half asleep. She was worried that he might growl at her for waking him but instead she saw deep concern sweep over his eyes, almost panic.

“What’s wrong with Minerva?”

Ellen was stomped. It was strange - Professor Dumbledore never, never called any of his students by their first names, not even his favourites. It was always Miss White, Miss Mcgonagall and so on. “Minerva’s had some bad news, she won’t get up off the floor, it’s like she’s given up, she hasn’t eaten-“ Every word fell out in quick succession and she was glad that she was able to stop when he shut his door and lead her back to the common room. He walked with such wide strides that she had to rush to keep up with him.

“Where is she?” He asked as they reached the empty common room.

“This way,” Ellen mumbled, her head down as she lead him up the stair case to their dormitory.

Minerva was still in the corner, the letter clasped in the same hand, her head still buried in her arm. She didn’t look up. Her body was shaking and an unnatural cry of anguish and pain was emitting from her. Ellen was suddenly glad that she had gone to get Professor Dumbledore, this was too much for her to handle.  
Dumbledore bent down, his heart in his mouth. He couldn’t see her face but he could feel the pain, he could hear it. Her thin body was shaking unbearably, her voice twisted and hoarse. He put a hand on her shoulder but it didn’t help her. She hadn’t eaten, if she carried on like this she could faint or collapse - he couldn’t have that.

“Miss Mcgonagall,” he whispered. “You need to get up, my dear.”

Minerva shook her head. She’d never defied a teacher but she didn’t care. She didn’t care if the Headmaster came and ordered her on her feet - she wouldn’t listen. She was too distraught, her heart too heavy, she couldn’t hold herself up. The room was already swaying, if she tried to stand she would be sick. She hadn’t the strength or the will to move.

Dumbledore sighed. He wasn’t about to drag her to her feet, or shout at her but he couldn’t leave her there. He stood up, placed his wand in his pocket and with a quick motion, scooped Minerva up. He was thankful that she didn’t cry out in protest or try to fight him but it worried him that she just hung in his arms, limp. A moment later, she moved into him, something that he was not expecting, burying her head in his shoulder and clutching onto his robes as if they were her lifeline. “Miss White, you should go to bed,” he said gently, to the shocked girl. “If anybody asks where Miss Mcgonagall is, tell them that she is with me, eating something.”

The girl nodded at him and he smiled before he made his way back to his rooms.

When he reached his quiet, dark sitting room, he gently put Minerva down on the sofa. He laid her down but by the time the fire roared she was sat up, staring at nothing. Her face was white, stricken with dark circles under her wide, marvellously green eyes. She bit at her pale, bottom lip, as if biting back the noises that she’d made in her room. When she looked up at him, she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“What for?”

“Being so... dramatic. I didn’t mean for anybody to hear me, I most certainly did not mean for you to carry me away like that but I just couldn’t- it hurts, oh God, it hurts!” She cried and began to sob into her hands.

He sat next to her and patted her shoulder. “My dear, grief is something that no one can control and we do not know what effect it will have on us,” he stroked her cheek lightly. He shouldn’t have, he knew, but it was instinct. She was hurting, he wanted to make it better. She didn’t brush him away. “What’s happened?”

She was almost sick as the words came out: “My father is dead.”

“How do you know?”

“My mother wrote to me,” she said. “She and I - well, my Dad was very important to me. She wasn’t very kind about it - it’s as if I’m the only one who loved him. He was a... brilliant man, I need him, I can’t believe-“ She cried, more and more, breaking in front of him. Without realising it, she fell onto his chest and she was pleased, soothed when he put his arms around her. In the back of her mind, she remembered how much she’d wanted this moment and now, it had come about because of the greatest sorrow. But she was comfortable, she let the pain pour out from her - she cried, screamed, wailed and shook until she could do no more.  
She pushed him away gently, her eyes dry and saw and her mouth set in it’s usual determined straight line. “I’m afraid I’ve made rather a fool of myself, I’m sorry Professor,” she said dully. “I’m ashamed that you have seen me like this.”

“Why are you ashamed? There is nothing shameful in mourning, Miss Mcgonagall,” he replied. “Losing a father is a terrible, terrible thing.” His voice grew thicker and she looked up into his eyes.

“You know, sir?”

“I lost my own father many years ago... it is not something one deals with easily.”

She squeezed his arm. “Thank you for understanding,” she said. It was strange how much lighter she felt. Yes, there was still the dull ache, an ache she knew was waiting to erupt again, but she felt calmer, for now. She even managed a cracked, sad smile as she stood. “I’m sorry to disturb your sleep, Professor, I’ll see you in the morning - thank-“

“Where are you going?”

“Back. I don’t want to disturb you-“

“You’re not going until you’ve eaten something, Miss Mcgonagall,” he said as a chair at the table at the other side of the room came out. “Miss White told me that you haven’t eaten-“

“Ellen should mind her own business,” Minerva muttered.

Dumbledore chuckled. “She cares about you. So much that she knocked on my door - she looked so frightened I thought she was going to faint!”

Minerva smiled and he thought her wondrous. Despite still being pale, when she smiled her eyes shone and her mouth formed a perfect, pale pink upturned shape. He had to force himself to look away from her - she might begin to suspect something if he stared for too long. His stomach knotted in shame as he looked away. He didn’t have time to hate himself for long thought, for he remembered something important. “But I digress, come, my dear, sit yourself down, you cannot argue with your head of house,” he added with smile.

Minerva rolled her eyes. “No, I can’t but I’m not very hungry.”

“And what do you eat? Pancakes, crumpets, pastries?”

Minerva frowned. “I don’t have a sweet tooth,” she raised an eyebrow. “But I know you have a frightful one.”

He smiled. “Frightful? How so?”

“Well your teeth will be rotten by the time your older,” she said.

“You sound like my Grandmother.”

“She must have been very wise,” she retorted. Then she bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to be rude, sir.”

“Never,” he said. “I’m game for a joke as much as any student here.”

She shook her head. “Sir, if I may say so, sometimes you are more childish than my classmates.”  
“Everyone should have a little fun.”

“That’s easy for you to say, your worry free,” she said quietly. “I have my exams, my other programmes - the council, the clubs, the sport- my training and now-“ she stopped. She couldn’t think about that now. “Well, everything else. I haven’t got time for fun. You’re brilliant already. I still have to work for it.”

“Brilliant? I do not think-“ he sighed. If she knew everything about him, she wouldn’t think him brilliant. “I had the same pressures as you and I still managed to have a good time.”

“Then we are quite different,” Minerva said solemnly, her face a little disappointed.

“Differences are what make people interesting, too opposites attract after all-“ He stopped, suddenly aware of what he had said as her head jerked upwards. He hadn’t meant- or maybe he had, who knew? But he’d said it, now she would think him awful and run from him as quickly as possible- as she should, of course. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No, your right,” she said earnestly. “We get on rather well, don’t you think? We never have awkward silences and I hate those! I was annoyed at Ellen when I thought she’d gone to get a teacher but relieved to see it was you. You made it... made it better, hurt less-“ She was in dangerous ground, she knew it, but she had to tell the truth.

“I did what any other Professor would have done, of course-“

“Oh, yes, I can just imagine Professor Slughorn carrying me down those stairs to allow me to cry in his arms!” She said. “No, I meant that I wanted you to come. I know I would feel better with you, why, I already do now.”

“It’s my job, Miss Mcgonagall,” he said.  
She nodded. This wasn’t the time, he obviously didn’t understand. She was disappointed - he was so kind, when he’d picked her up she thought herself saved. She shook her head, obviously she had gotten it wrong. She had made it all up in her head- the tears came back, she couldn’t control them.

“My dear, you should eat and then you won’t be so tired, so teary-“

“Oh it isn’t that!” She said. “I’ve made such a fool of myself, practically throwing myself at you whenever I see you, I’ve made you feel uncomfortable, I can see-“

“Throwing yourself?” He was shocked. He’d never noticed. He’d always seen Minerva smile, laugh and impress him with her ability but she’d hardly thrown herself at him.

“Yes, yes! When I come to your office and I make sure that I brush your arm when I turn a page over in a book, or I - oh, don’t make me tell you the rest!”

“Minerva, I’m shocked.”

She looked up at him, startled. Minerva. He’d never said it. She’d never heard him utter her name. She realised it was the sweetest thing, she’d live the rest of her life waiting for him to say it. It sounded wonderful, as if it were meant to be. “Shocked?”

“Yes. I never knew- if I had known that that was what you were doing, I would have put a stop to it, I would have told you... I’d would never have thought- what do you have to gain? Girls usually do it to Professor’s for easy marks, extra tuition, but you do not need any of that-“

“I can’t believe that you would think me as stupid as one of those girls!” she hissed. “I would never- never!- pull up my skirts for things such as that- I am, I have a bit of dignity, a bit of pride!” Her face was red, her eyes full of fire.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said quickly. “But please look at it from my point of view? Why would a young, beautiful, talented girl - how was it you put it?- Throw herself at a middle to old aged Professor who is neither daring or interesting other than to... well, you know, what I just implied?”  
Minerva nodded. Her temper was close to flaring but she allowed the man to put forward his argument before she blew up. “Did you ever think it was because a young girl would want to... spend time with her neither old nor uninteresting Professor?”

 “No. It doesn’t make sense to me,” he admitted with a shrug.  
“Then you are a fool, sir,” she whispered.

He lifted an eyebrow as he stared quizzically at her. “I’ve never been called a fool by a student before,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No,” he said softly. “Please explain. I have offended you, and I’m sorry, but you should tell me yourself how I am wrong.”

She nodded. She tried to swallow the hard lump in her throat but couldn’t - it was wedged. She tried to steady her pounding heart but failed. “I threw myself at you because I was silly enough to think - Professor, you’re a wonderful teacher, a kind man, handsome, charming - I’m sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable but- I threw myself at you because I wanted you to love me as I love you.” She winced as she said those last words. He was going to shout, order her out and never speak to her again. Her heart ached - she was going to lose the man who could have helped ease the pain of losing her dear Dad.

Dumbledore breathed in sharply. Never did he think that she was going to say that. Never did he think that he would be so stunned. His own feeling aside, he wondered how this girl, this bright girl, could possibly have looked at him once, let alone twice. Did she love him? Wasn’t she too young for love? But he knew Minerva, he knew how mature she was, how logical - she would have analysed her heart over and over to come to that conclusion. She wasn’t one to be whimsical, stupid or naive- she was sincere he realised and all of a sudden he was ecstatic and frightened at the same time. He knew that this was the moment he should let her down, show her back to her rooms and let her believe that he didn’t feel the same way but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be condemned for loving her as he did - it wasn’t their fault that they were born in different times, that they were Professor and student. He shook his head, swallowed and said, “Minerva, you know that this isn’t allowed.”

She nodded. “I’m not simple,” she said dryly.  
“It’s inappropriate, my dear, you should understand that. You should also understand that what you are looking for cannot be given. I could not treat you as you deserve - we couldn’t have meals together, drinks, I could not meet your family-“

“I don’t want any of that.”

“You should,” he said sadly. “You deserve that and more.”

She blushed. He gently lifted her head up, his hand on her chin. “Minerva... is this what you want?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said earnestly.

Despite his head screaming at him, he leaned down and kissed her. It was more heavenly that he’d dared to imagine. She responded with ardour, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her waist closer to him. Love, desire, hatred, shame filled his body - shame- oh what was he doing? The girl’s father had just died! What was wrong with him? When did he stop being a man? He pushed her away gently. “Minerva, stop.”  
“I said-“

“No, my dear, this... was a mistake,” he said sadly.

She looked up at him with eyes full of pleading and sorrow before she sighed. She unwrapped her arms, smoothed down her skirts and said very coldly, “Very well, Professor, I’m sorry for the intrusion,” and marched from the room, her body oozing dignity and grace.


	2. Defeat

He would have to bite the bullet and talk to her. It had been three weeks - the first week she had spent away from the school attending her father’s funeral and the other two weeks they spent avoiding each other. He felt guilty but he just couldn’t bring himself to approach her - she looked so downtrodden and forlorn that his heart broke every time he looked at her. She didn’t need his excuses and apologies while she was grieving and he’d avoided the moment to talk to her until he couldn’t anymore.

She came into his classroom first, something she’d avoided doing since she came back. It was obviously a mistake, she could tell by the fright in her eyes and the blush of her cheeks. A fresh wave of guilt came over him - did he frighten her now? It was when he closed his book and declared the class over that he finally found the courage to say, “Miss Mcgonagall, please could you meet me in my office in five minutes?” She nodded slowly, shoving her books under her arm and hurrying away. She looked worried - he promised himself that he would stay on the other side of the room from her, if need be. He didn’t want to be the monster he’d already shown her he could be.

He slowly tidied his things away, wondering just what he was going to say to her. He didn’t feel as if an apology was enough - he’d done something terrible and sometimes sorry didn’t make it all better. He would have to ask her what she wanted him to do; never speak to her again, never look at her, find her an alternate teacher - whatever she wanted, he would do. It was up to her.

He walked with leaden feet to his office and sighed deeply as he turned the knob. Minerva rose from her seat as he came in, smoothing the front of her skirts and knotting her hands in front of her. Her head was bowed slightly. He felt awful. “Miss Mcgonagall, if you’re afraid to be here, I understand,” he said softly.

She looked at him, her fiery eyes burning into his own. “I’m only afraid of what you’re going to say,” she whispered.

“I’ll say nothing if that’s what you prefer,” he said.

She shook her head.

“Then I’ll apologise-“

“For what?”

His eyes widened. “Surely you know why? What happened, Minerva, it’s inexcusable-“

“You shouldn’t apologise for that,” she said. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Why?” “Because, it made me happy,” she admitted. “I- I’m sorry that I put you in that position, you’ve been avoiding me since and I wish I could take it back, I don’t want you to hate me.” Her voice cracked a little.

“I’ve been avoiding you because I thought that you hated me,” he said. “I thought that I’d taken advantage and you’d realised that. I could never hate you...” he sighed. He had to tell the truth, just as she was being truthful with him. “I could never hate you because I-“

“You love me?” Her voice was high, hopeful.

He wanted to tell her no. He knew that he should tell her no but - it slipped out before he could think about it. “Yes,” he whispered but he quickly added. “I shouldn’t, it isn’t right, you need go, Minerva, and forget that any of this happened.”

She shook her head quickly. “I can’t forget, I don’t want to,” she moved closer to him, so close he could smell her sweet, shining hair. “It’s not fair, just because I’m so much younger than you- if you were the same age as me and I loved you as I do, it would be something to celebrate. Who declared it so wrong?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, sometimes it is wrong. Sometimes, Professor’s use students, I hope you know that... I’m not like that,” he said quietly. “I’ve never-“

“I know,” she smiled. “I can tell.”

Albus raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“You’re so nervous,” she laughed lightly, squeezing his arm. “Your arms haven’t stopped shaking and you’re so pale!” She stroked his cheek. She did it with out thinking and she quickly pulled it away when she realised.

“What’s wrong?” He took a step back, quickly.

“Nothing, I just didn’t know... if you wanted me to...”

He pulled her to him gently. “Minerva, I don’t care what you do to me as long as you don’t leave me. That’s the only thing that could hurt me,” he whispered. He grabbed her hand a kissed it. He noticed her eyes dart towards the door, “Locked and silenced, unless you want me to open it...”

“Why would I want that?” She smiled playfully, snaking her arms around his neck. “If it were open I wouldn’t be able to do this,” she kissed him lightly on the mouth and then blushed. “Is this alright, Professor?” She asked earnestly.

Professor. No, that... he didn’t want to be reminded that he was her teacher when they were alone together. “My dear, I do have a name,” he said gently.

She went crimson. “I don’t... it’s strange, I wouldn’t want to overstep-“

“If you want this, then while we are together, we are equals,” he looked fiercely at her, to make his point clear. “I am Albus and you are Minerva, it can’t be any other way.”

“I understand,” she said.

“Do you want this?” He had to keep asking, he had to make sure. He couldn’t understand why so young a girl would want anything to do with him and he just had to keep checking.

Minerva rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you, haven’t I? I’m not a fool, Prof- Sir- Albus,” she said. “I understand what I’m doing. I know that I want you. I know that I love you. Don’t worry about what I want - worry about what you want.”

“I know what I want,” he said. “I want you, I want to care for you, love you, be there for you-“

“Well, that’s settled then, isn’t it?” She arched an eyebrow.

He was amazed at how quickly she could adapt to being his equal for now it seemed as if she were challenging him to question her yet again. He didn’t. Instead he pulled her to him, keep her body close to his and bent down and kissed her. Whilst their first kiss had been slow and tentative, this one was urgent, hungry. Albus held the back of her head, trying to draw her mouth nearer and nearer, while Minerva arched her back, pushing herself closer and closer to him. He ran his hands down her curved back and round, so that he just missed her breast. She moaned - he didn’t know if that was good or bad and so he stopped, stepping away from her quickly.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. Her face was full of confusion, worry, heartbreak.

“You made a noise, I didn’t know if that meant that you’d changed your mind.”

“I’m quite capable of pushing you off myself,” she said defensively.

“But I had quite a hold on you-“

“If I couldn’t of managed it manually, I would have used my wand.”

“I suppose,” he hung his head.

“I have a lesson in ten minutes,” she said quietly.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he replied thoughtfully.

“You should have said, I’d quite forgotten-“

“When will I see you again?” She asked eagerly.

“After dinner? You could come to my rooms, if you wish, we would be a bit... safer there,” he said.

She smiled, brightly, widely. “I can’t wait- see you tonight, Prof - Albus,” she sang as she left the room.

“I can’t wait either, my dear,” Albus whispered to himself - too lost in love to listen to his head as it cried - _You fool! This will never work!_


	3. Normality

Minerva finally reached Professor Dumbledore's door after a day that seemed to go on and on. Despite willing the hours to pass, now that she was finally here, she was nervous. She knew that neither of them knew what they were doing, neither of them had embarked on such a relationship and it was clear that that they were balancing on a fine rope. 

Despite this, she was still excited. In the three weeks since her fathers death and since she had come so close to Dumbledore but had been told, gently, that she wasn't about to get what she wanted, she had been utterly broken. Her world had been grey, her heart almost too heavy to bare, and there hadn't seemed to be an end to it all. 

After burying her father, after the great pain of watching as he was lowered into the cold, dark ground, she had hurried back to Hogwarts, not wanting to spend another moment with her insufferable mother. She had thought that being at the castle would have soothed her, would have made her feel at home but the silence she received from Dumbledore and the sympathy she was forced to endure from Ellen and Poppy made it anything but soothing. 

 

Dumbledore hardly looked at her, never smiled at her and never spoke to her. She soon realised that he was avoiding her and so she did what she felt was best- she was never early for their lessons together, for she didn't want to have to force him to be alone with her and she never raised her hand to ask a question. When she had arrived early this morning it had been a mistake and she'd felt guilty when she saw the panic in his eyes. She didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, in fact she did her best to do anything but that, but she was glad she had been early. 

 

When he had asked her to see him in his office, she'd felt sick. He was going to tell her that she should change lessons, or never speak to him, or that he was going to leave - anything to be away from her! She'd gone to his office with a heavy heart, tears of disappointment already threatening to spill over, and when she turned and saw his face, so serious, so grim, she could have died. 

 

But he didn't say those things! He'd told her he loved her, he'd told her that he wanted to be with her! It was as if her world burst into colour again, her heart sang! And then they'd kissed and it was perfect, the world stopped turning for that moment. 

 

She sighed happily and knocked on the door. She heard him scuffle about inside and she quickly smoothed down her robes. She smiled at him as he opened the door. "Good evening, Professor," she said nervously. 

 

He raised his eyebrows. "Prof-"

 

She leaned in a little and whispered in explanation, " I'm still in the corridor."

 

"Ah, yes," he nodded and then stepped aside. "Would you like to come in?" 

 

"Of course!" She said brightly and hurried into the sitting room. "Can I sit down, sir, err-" 

 

Albus laughed. "Yes, yes, sit down, my dear. Tea?" 

 

She nodded, not daring to open her mouth in case she slipped up again. She still hadn't got used to using his name, after all, he'd been her professor for seven years and her... Well, her, well Albus for a day.

When he brought in the tea tray, he placed it gently on the oak coffee table and perched in the high backed, grey arm chair opposite. He smiled. "How was your day?" 

"Fine, just the usual, everyone is starting to panic about the exams though," she noticed her voice still shock slightly with nerves. 

"And you're not?" 

Minerva smiled. "I spend my time much more productively than my classmates. Except for maybe Ellen, but she worries about everything. She'll be alright though, she's brighter than she thinks, her work is good. Not like Poppy! Why, ever since she got with Weasley, she's been ignoring everything else! I swear, it's Robert morning noon and night!" Suddenly she blushed. "Am I taking too much?" 

"No, of course not! It's nice to hear you talk," he said. "And so happily, I was worried, after losing your father, that you might be a bit... Down." 

Minerva felt a tug on her heart at the mention of her Dad. She smiled sadly. "Oh, I miss him so. Sometimes I can't sleep because the pain is too heavy, I can't breathe properly, he was very important to me. I feel quite alone now." 

"You have your mother?" He asked. 

Minerva shook her head. "My mother and I have never seen eye to eye. Even as a girl, I knew that we were too different to ever really get along." 

Albus furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "I see, that's a shame, daughters can find great comfort from their mothers, or so I've heard," he said thoughtfully. "You have Miss White though, and Miss Pomfrey-" 

"And you?" She questioned. 

"If you want." 

"I do," she said earnestly. 

He sighed. "Then yes, you have me." 

Minerva felt that she should have smiled but something didn't feel right. He didn't seem happy about the whole thing, was she forcing him into something that he didn't want? Had he suddenly decided that she wasn't worth the risk? Her mouth went dry with panic. "Professor, I can go if you want..." 

"Albus," he said simply. 

"Albus," she corrected. "If this isn't what you want, I'll, I'll understand, I don't mean to make your life difficult. I've walked out before, I have pride enough to do it again, don't worry-" 

"I just- I wish that I didn't want this. Then my conscience would be clear. But I do and I think you do. If I did the right thing and asked you to leave, then I would be miserable and I daresay that you would be too," he said quietly. 

"Utterly miserable," she confirmed. 

"And you're so much more mature than other students, you know your own mind and heart, don't you?" He half questioned, half confirmed. 

"I do," she replied slowly. "I'm not like Poppy, if that's what you mean. She simply wants the attention off of Robert who completely dotes on her. Sometimes I wonder how she does it, let's him kiss her and everything when she doesn't even really like him, she just likes the idea of having a boyfriend, a very juvenile thing for a girl of her age and intelligence if you ask me- and I'm taking too much again," she stopped. " I'm sorry, I'm just nervous." 

Albus smiled and chuckled. "It's nice, really," he said. "When you are the student and I the professor, we don't have time to have a normal conversation. I want to know everything about you, my dear, I like to listen to your voice. When you talk about Miss Pomfrey your nerves disappear." 

"They do?" 

"Yes, it's lovely," he smiled. "I think you are worried about Miss Pomfrey's studies but I'm afraid that this is not a surprising situation. Every year students slip in their exams because of other... Activities that they deem more important. Nevertheless, I'll keep my eye on her, she'll be an outstanding medi witch one day and I can't let a little romance ruin that. Just like I can't let whatever happens between us ruin your future," he quickly added." 

"Don't worry, I've already thought about that, I'm not silly enough to let that happen," she remarked. "Anyway, I can always study when I'm with you, some evenings, we are not lovesick teenagers who have no control over ourselves." 

Albus chuckled. "Well, I'm certainly not and I doubt you are, my dear," he said. "Have you... Have you ever experienced another romance?" 

Minerva shook her head. "No, I haven't had the time. Besides, there's only been you since I was old enough to understand romance and love and the like." 

"Oh." 

"Is that alright to say?" She asked. " I'm not sure-" 

"You must say what you like," he interrupted quickly. "We have to be honest, like any other normal... Couple." 

"Couple?" 

"Yes, if that makes you happy." 

Minerva regarded how her heart had leapt at the word. "It makes me very happy." 

"Good," he said. He sighed and glanced at the wall. "It's late, my dear, and as much as I love spending time with you, and I do, it's been... Well, extraordinary but you should get back, before you are missed." 

"Yes, you are right," she said quietly. She wished she could stay, she'd spoken so much he'd hardly said anything and she still didn't know much about him, other than that he was kind and clever and handsome and wonderful- "thank you for the tea." 

"Will you come again tomorrow?" 

Minerva grinned. "Yes, I would like that very much," she stood up and made her way to the door. She stopped and looking at him she blushed. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I was just, wondering..." 

He smiled and nodded, leaning down as he kissed her. He still couldn't believe how it made him feel, how happy, whole and loved he felt. As they parted, he kissed the top of her head and she shivered. 

"A good shiver," she quickly said, as if reading his mind. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Prof- Albus." 

"Thank you, my dear." 

She stood on her toes and quickly kissed his cheek before she hurried away. For the first time in her life, she did a little waltz like dance down the corridor, with little care as to whether she was seen or not.


	4. Violent

Poppy was still up when Minerva reached the common room. She was curled up on an armchair, her feet tucked neatly beneath her, with a book in her hand. She was a good looking girl, petite with bright red hair and a sprinkle of freckles across her button nose. While Minerva was tall and willowy, Poppy was small, with well rounded limbs and breasts too big for her age.

She looked up over her book as Minerva came in, a wide small across her pretty, round face. "I've been looking for you, where were you?"

"Library," Minerva answered simply. 

"Should have known..." Poppy rolled her eyes, a habit that she had inherited from a seven year friendship with Minerva. "Don't you already know enough about everything?"

"Hardly," Minerva answered dryly. 

Poppy laughed. "You're late tonight though, I nearly fell asleep waiting for you," she yawned, allowing the book to drop into her lap as she stretched her arms out. "Let me tell you, Minerva, I've spent most of the evening reading about childbirth and it is not a pretty picture!" She shivered. "I hardly think a child is worth it!" 

Minerva arched an eyebrow. "Then perhaps you should cease to see Robert, I shouldn't have thought a child could come from anything but what you two get up to." 

Poppy's mouth fell open. "Minerva! Really! Me and Robert... Fair enough you have a point but I am careful, I'm not a dunce." 

"You could have fooled me," Minerva remarked. "Where's Ellen?" 

"In bed, she had a panic about Charms and fell asleep with the book on her face, I took her glasses off," Poppy replied. Then she hung her head. "Minerva, I have a confession." 

"Yes?" 

"I looked for you in the library and you weren't there," she admitted quietly. "Where were you?" 

Minerva's head shot around to shot Poppy a frightened glance. She thought she'd gotten away with it, she thought that she was a cool liar. She tried to think of a clever lie, her mouth opened, ready to pour out some nonsense but Poppy spoke first.

"And when you came in here, you were quite flushed. Never, in all the time I've known you, have you been in a flush," Poppy raised her brows and then smiled broadly. "I think that you were with a boy!" 

"Don't be absurd!"

"Am I? Am I really absurd? You look at love sick as Robert does!" 

Minerva closed her eyes. "It's private," she said coldly.

"I knew I was right!" Poppy cried. "I'm utterly pleased with myself! Do I know him?" 

"It's private," Minerva hissed.

"I'll leave it then," Poppy said, thoroughly disappointed. "Just be careful, Minerva." 

Minerva's eyebrows flew up her forehead. "If you are suggesting that I be careful in the sense that you should be, you need not worry. I won't be conducting in such things for a... While."

Poppy laughed. "Oh, dear, I would never presume that! You're far more, errm, well, I just wouldn't presume. I just mean, be careful, not to get hurt, or caught." 

"What do you know?" Minerva's stomach turned. Did she know? Had she seen something? Oh god, had everything gone wrong before it had even started? 

"Nothing!" Poppy said lightly. "I just want you to be careful, I love you don't I? I don't want to see you with a broken heart. With me and Robert, I know that he's keener than I am, so my hurt is jut fine but you... Despite your exterior, I'll daresay you've fallen, fallen fast. I'll bet you hang on every word he says... Am I right?" 

"I- you see-" 

"I am right," Poppy said. She leant forward and grabbed Minerva's hand. "You will be careful, won't you?" 

Minerva smiled, squeezing Poppy's hand. "You are very sweet but I'll be fine. He won't hurt me, in any way, he's a gentleman." 

"I'm sure," Poppy smiled and she leapt to her feet. "I'm going to bed now, I can only learn so much before I get a head ache, are you coming?" 

Minerva shook her head. "Not yet," she said as she sank into the arm chair that Poppy had occupied. 

"Good night," Poppy yawned as she ascended the staircase. 

"Good night, Pomfrey," Minerva said. She waited until Poppy had gone upstairs before she sighed deeply. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep yet. She had to much to think about. It was all swimming around her head and for once in her life she couldn't order them, couldn't sift into any sense. She supposed that's what love did. It jumbled ones brain until it was rendered completely useless. She wasn't used to the feeling of being controlled by her heart rather than her head. She wasn't used to being so confused, so irrational. 

When she thought of him, her heart banged loudly against her chest and her blood suddenly became warm. She thought she was floating, leaving her body- it was quite ridiculous! No wonder wars were waged over love, or lives taken because of a sickness of the heart! Before she had thought it all just for novels and history but now she realised that it was all true. If something happened to him, she felt sure she would die too. If they were kept apart, she would fight until her last breathe to get to him. 

Their precarious situation seemed the least important thing. They were clever enough to not flaunt their love, or make any slip ups. She was quite sure that they would never be caught because they were intelligent enough to know how to hide things. What bothered her more was how long they would last. Would he eventually grow bored of her? He was a brilliant wizard, he could have any witch he wanted and yet he wanted her, but for how long? She wasn't exceptionally beautiful, or clever. She knew nothing about love, the skills involved or how to keep it alive. She was quite naive. What if he grew tired of her plain looks? What if he grew bored of being with somebody who would never be as clever as him, as powerful? Would he leave her? 

The thought of him leaving her, even after only have gotten him moments ago, brought a knife sharpe pain to her chest. Tears filled her eyes but she shook her head - she was being silly. She couldn't be a mess for the rest of the time she loved him. She'd have to learn to gain some control. 

As she climbed the stairs to her room, she realised she had never felt so happy or content in all her life. 

******************************** 

Albus was hardly tired. He laid in bed, gazing at the ceiling, his heart still beating violently against his rib cage, his head still swimming with love and shame. 

He loved her. That comforted him. He wasn't just after her for her looks or her beautiful, thin body. He wanted to know her mind, to be a part of her life, to love her, comfort her, be there for her. His love was pure, it was not blackened in someway but whole. That eased his conscience a little. 

It wasn't their fault that they were born decades apart. Of course, that wouldn't matter if they waited until Minerva left the school but it was clear that she needed somebody. If her father hadn't of died, Albus was sure that nothing would have happened between them until it was right. But, he had died and now Minerva was alone. Albus couldn't bare to think that he could be the one to comfort her, to help heal but he wouldn't allow it because of their circumstance. He had to be there for here, that was certain, job, reputation, life be damned. 

He knew that she was worth the risk. Just to be near her and he was in awe. Her mind was fascinating, so different from any others he'd come across. She had a different way of seeing the world, a fresh and exciting way, it turned all his own views of the world around him upside down. She was graceful and so beautiful and yet, she couldn't see it. Her eyes were like deep forest green pools, he felt as if he could get lost in them for hours, for days, even. Her face had certainly been sculpted by somebody, a face that defined, that mesmerising could not be a result of random genetics. 

In all his years he had never felt so, so vulnerable about a woman. He knew that he would do whatever she wanted, whether it be murder or not and that frightened him a little. The intensity of his feelings were over powering. He thought that he had lived long enough to know love but he'd never known a love like this. This was powerful, filling his body until it nearly hurt. He wasn't used to it, he wasn't used to the violence of his feelings. He realised with a sigh that this love between him and Minerva could be quite dangerous. 


	5. Define

At breakfast, Minerva hardly touched her toast. Dumbledore, Albus, was not in his chair. It unnerved her for he was always at breakfast and she was worried that once again avoiding her, having changed his mind. 

She smiled when she finally saw him march in, gliding between the table in a graceful hurry but her stomach churned when he didn't look at her. It seemed strange that he hadn't. She watched him as he took his seat and blushed with relief when he smiled at her. 

"Minerva! You're blushing!" Ellen gasped. "Are you ill, dear? Do you feel faint? Or do you feel a bit like you have the flue?" 

Minerva shook her head but Poppy, whose ears had pricked up at the word 'flu' clamped her hand on Minerva's forehead. "You are a little hot," she said. "Hold on, I need your wrist," she went to grab it but Minerva yanked it away. 

"I'm fine, thank you," she said tartly. "Just because you've read symptoms and remedies in your books, Pomfrey, doesn't mean that you are a medi witch, therefore I'll have no diagnosis from you!" 

"Really! I have to practice somehow!"

"Find some poor fool," Minerva answered quickly. "Thank you for your concern Ellen but I'm quite alright." 

Ellen nodded, her face still full of concern. Minerva had never blushed before and since that night when she had cried all evening on the floor, Ellen worried about her. 

As Dumbledore came towards the three girls, Ellen went bright red with fear. He wasn't a scary man, he'd proven that the night he came for Minerva, but he was still a teacher and they frightened her no matter how nice they were as a person. 

He smiled at them, a bright, friendly smile. "Good morning Miss White, Miss Pomfrey," he nodded his head. " Miss Mcgonagall, are you well? I heard Miss White mention the flu?" 

Minerva rolled her eyes and shot a dark at Ellen. "I'm fine, thank you, sir," she said lowly, still staring at Ellen. "Ellen was just over reacting." 

Albus nodded. "I'm glad," he paused for a moment in thought and then said, "I know that today everybody goes to Hogsmeade, but I wondered if you would mind terribly if you stayed behind? There are a few things coming up in my lessons this week and I thought that you would be the perfect person to review what I think we should do. Quite complicated you see," he said. He swung on his feet a little and Minerva knew that he was nervous. 

She smiled brightly. "Of course, I had nothing to get anyway," she said. 

He grinned. "I'm glad, see you in my office in about ten minutes?" 

"Of course," she replied and smiled as he bowed a little and walked away. If she were older and they had met somewhere else, she had no doubt that he would be a perfect beau, thoughtful and kind. 

"Sorry to have got you into that," Ellen apologised, her head bent. She knew her friends temper and was ready to recoil from it. 

Minerva arched an eyebrow. "Just stop worrying about me and so loud!" Minerva said. "I'll have all the professors asking me how I am soon and I'll be sent to the hospital wing for no reason!" 

"Sorry," Ellen mumbled, climbing from the bench. "Me and my big mouth. Are you coming Poppy?" 

Poppy, who'd even making lovesick eyes to Robert nodded. "Yes, Robert is going to meet us there, I hope you don't mind, Ellen." 

"Course not," Ellen said, going slightly pink. She always felt awkward with Poppy and Robert, they were rather full on. 

When the girls had left, Minerva quickly climbed from the table and began her swift walk to Albus's office. She hadn't expected to see him this early and she wasn't really dressed to meet him. She had on her plain navy robes, after all, she only thought she was going to Hogsmeade and her hair was twisted on top of her head, not neatly plaited or brushed to shine. She sighed, she wished she'd had a chance to change. 

"Minerva!" He cried, grinning, his blue eyes shinning. "How are you this morning?" 

"I wish you'd have given me notice," Minerva said, slightly annoyed. "I look a fright, I didn't think I'd be seeing you until tonight!" 

"You look lovely," he reassured. "I thought you might like to spend the whole day together, we could have lunch and play chess." 

Minerva smiled. "I'd love that. When I went to bed last night I thought that our evening together wasn't nearly enough and I talked for most of it!" 

Albus sagged with relief. "Me too." 

"Shall I sit?" 

Shaking his head, Albus said, "no, come with me, the office is for my time with students," he held out his head. 

Her heart skipped a beat as she took it. It was cool and smooth and wrapped easily around her own. She didn't want to ever let go. He lead her through a door that was hidden behind a large curtain and to her surprise they were in the corridor that lead to his rooms. She was delighted when they closed the door of his rooms and he pulled her to him gently, lightly kissing her. She felt giddy. 

"Was that okay?" He asked, his bright blue eyes meeting hers.

"Of course!" Minerva cried, a little exasperated. Would he always be so tentative and forever ask her if everything he did was alright? "Prof- Albus, I think we should... Talk about, you know, us?" When he shot her a frightened glance she quickly reassured him. "No! I haven't changed my mind but neither of us know what we should and shouldn't do. Perhaps we should make it clear, what we both want and such. I find that when one is to the point, there is little room for misunderstanding. I have to admit that I am a little naive in things like this... I'll be honest I'm completely naive but we should talk about it, shouldn't we?" 

Albus was dumbstruck. While he knew that she was much more mature than others of her age, he had no idea that she could be so rational, especially when their coming together had been completely irrational. Of course she was right, they did need to talk about everything, explain their feelings, try to find some sort of definition for their unusual situation but he had to admit, he was a little frightened at the prospect. This territory was just as alien to him as it was her and he knew that he would have to lead the conversation, she no doubt thought that he knew much more about their situation than she did. Well, she was quite wrong. 

"Are you going to say anything?" Minerva asked, head slightly tilted to the side. 

"Oh, yes of course, I was just..." He cleared his throat and smiled. "Why don't you sit down?" 

She perched on the edge of the grey armchair that Albus had occupied the night before. Her hands were cupped together on her lap and her legs shook slightly. "I suppose that I think we should have this conversation because I don't want you to feel guilty for all eternity. Like when you just kissed me, yes, you had hold of my waist but you are hardly a boa are you? It's fine to do things like that, you needn't ask afterwards if it was all alright. I like it when you..." She trailed off, a high blush covering her face. 

"I just like to make sure, I like to give you room enough so that you could... Change your mind if you wanted too." 

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to change my mind. I know my own heart, Albus. I know that it beats for you, that when you touch me, kiss me, it flitters and skips. I know that my heart and I need you," she said quietly. 

Albus couldn't help but smile. She was capable of making him happier than he had ever felt and he only wanted to do the same. She described her heart with such conviction that it had to be true. She did know her heart, it was clear to him. He wasn't trapping her, he wasn't taking advantage of lost and misunderstood feelings. He felt lighter, happier and his smile was genuine. 

"Do you believe me now?" She asked, her green eyes wide with pleading. 

He nodded slowly. "I believe that you won't change your mind, however, I have no intentions of trapping you, so, no matter how it may hurt me, you must know that you can go whenever you please." 

"I know, but I don't please," she replied simply with a smile. "I will be with you as long as I am able." 

"You do not know how happy that makes me," Albus said quietly. "At least I know I can kiss you whenever and not have to worry." 

"Never worry, I welcome them," she paused for a minute and her pale face grew red again. "Albus, I errr, I've never been in, well a relationship before. Poppy, she, I know about some of the goings on, how we should act but I have to be honest and say that I cannot do that. I watch Poppy make a fool of herself with silly voices and high, frilly laughs. They have pet names and ridiculous words- I cannot do that. There is no way. I know that I love you and I'm quite sure that you love me, I don't think that we need silly voices and nicknames to show that!" 

Albus chuckled. "I agree, I couldn't imagine you as that type anyway. I may be a little... Romantic, but you will just have to suffer that!" He admitted. 

"If I must. I've never done this before so who knows, we may learn that I am that type after all! Having said that, I wouldn't hold my breathe!" She laughed. "As long as you can live with that." 

"I'm sure I can," he grinned. 

"Good, that's that bit over," Minerva said," moving on-" 

"This is all very business like," Albus commented. "Not very romantic at all," he smiled coyly. 

"You know me well enough, I like to get through my agenda," she said briskly. "Now, well, you see, you may have to take the lead on the next point, Albus, for I do not have much experience," she couldn't hide her blush. Nor could she ignore the churning in her stomach. She felt like a fool, having no idea how one conducted themselves in a relationship, what she should do, what they would do. She lowered her head and bit her lip. She didn't want him to see her as a ignorant school child. 

Albus shuffled in his seat, groaning inwardly. He wasn't sure what he should say to the girl, whether anything would frighten her. He wasn't about to jump in at the deep end and so he asked: "What is your question, my dear?" 

Still looking down into her lap, Minerva replied, "What do we do? How often do we... Embrace, kiss and all the rest and when do we..." 

"Never, if you do not want to," he said quickly. 

"But you want to?" 

"I want what you want," he said simply. 

"Would you find it... Scandalous if I said that I do, indeed, want to... Eventually," she still couldn't look at him. She was squirming inside. 

"No, my dear," he whispered gently. He left his seat and knelt in front of her, tilting her head up. "This is strange for both of us, but please, try to look at me." 

His bright eyes met hers. They were entrancing, kind and soft, she thought she could look into them forever. "I just don't want you to think I'm stupid," she said, her voice dry with fear. 

"How could I ever think that?" He smiled and his hand cupped her cheek. It was so soft, so smooth. She buried herself into it, placing a dainty hand on top of his. "You are extraordinary, Minerva." 

"Hardly-" 

"I'll hear no arguments from you about that," he reprimanded gently. "You are extraordinary, you always will be." 

They both fell silent, his hand remained on her cheek until she gently lifted it to her mouth and kissed it. She kissed the back, the palm until she pulled it and his arm around her waist. She shuffled to the very edge of the seat, burying herself as best she could into his chest. Her arms slid around his neck, her hand stroking the back of his head lightly. 

When Albus didn't move, she tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. "Must I do everything?" 

He smiled and, with permission granted, hungrily, urgently kissed her, and would continue to do so until their mouths were numb and they were gasping for breathe.


	6. Acts

Minerva groaned, completely frustrated. She threw the hair brush down with a loud bang and fell back in her chair, arms folded. Why girls had so much time and patience, she had no idea for she lacked patience and ability. 

She was trying to pin up her hair differently, in an attempt to look older and more sophisticated. She had decided three days ago that her simple straight bun or long neat plait were too school-ish, and so she was now determined to create a new style that was not only sensible but flattering. She'd tried curling it, French twisting it and brushing it out so that it was straight but all of them looked utterly ridiculous. 

Now, with charmed pins in her mouth, she leaned forward in one final attempt to create something that suited. Her brow was set in her usual determined fashion and with a slight tug, she twisted one side of her hair and quickly pinned it back. She nodded in satisfaction as she surveyed it quickly before doing the same with the otherside. The loose twists made her square jaw softer, she had to admit and finally, she felt a slight satisfaction. Next, she collected the rest of her dark hair at the back of her head and created a loose bun. It suited her, she decided, for it didn't look as harsh as when she twisted a tight bun in the very top of her head. 

She smiled in triumph, tucked in the last few strays and finally left the mirror, waltzing down to the common room. 

"Minerva!" Ellen cried. "Look at your hair! Poppy look!" 

Minerva blushed. She hated any attention being drawn to her. "It's not much different," she mumbled. 

"Oh, it is, it's lovely," Ellen smiled. 

Poppy raised her eyebrows, judgement on her face. "What's is for?" She asked harshly. 

"A change," Minerva shot back. "What's wrong with you?" 

"You're not doing anything stupid, are you, Minerva?" Poppy asked, the judgement melting away into concern. 

"I don't know what you mean." 

"You know well enough," Poppy said. "Look at me, Minerva, don't be rash- I mean-" 

"Please leave it, Poppy," Minerva said. "I'm going to study." 

"You've been studying so much lately, I'm surprised you can even cram any more in!" Ellen said.

Poppy scoffed. "Studying, yes!" She said before she turned to Minerva and tucking a lose strand behind her ear, said softly. "I hope he's worth it." 

Minerva nodded, her eyes downcast and said good bye to them before she hurried away. She was frightened enough as it was with out Poppy making such a big deal out of it. 

A practical girl, Minerva was more terrified of the pain and logistics rather than what feelings it may unearth or what consequences the act held. She'd decided two weeks ago, after being together for five months, that she wanted it. She'd been lounged in his lap, her robes askew from their kissing when she thought of how much she loved and trusted the man who looked at her in such awe.

She walked to Albus's rooms with a quivering stomach. Her mouth was dry, her hands shaking a little. But she was smiling. 

"You're hair is different," Albus remarked as he let her in. "It's nice, of course, but it's different." 

Suddenly, she felt embarrassed. She felt like a child attempting to emulate her mother by wearing her clothes and copying her hair. She felt her face burn. "I-" she couldn't find the words. Instead, she reached up and began tugging it out, until her hair lay in black waves down her back. 

"You shouldn't have taken it out! It was nice, really, you just didn't...look like you," he played with a strand of her loose hair. "Though, I do much prefer it down." 

"I didn't know that," she mumbled. 

"Yes, it looks lovely when it's like this," he smiled. "But still, you can't have it like this all the time. It looked nice before, why the change?" 

Minerva felt her face burn so much she was sure that her ears were turning pink. How stupid she felt! "I was trying something different." 

"I can see that," he replied. "But what for?" 

"I wanted to look older... To, oh it's silly and I'm highly embarrassed!" She cried. 

"Why would you want to look older?" 

She sighed. He would never give up, she'd learned that quickly. If he wanted an answer to something he'd go on and on and on until Minerva gave it away out of sheer exasperation. "Because I thought you- might prefer it." She winced slightly. 

"Prefer it if you looked older, you mean?" He arched an eyebrow. 

"Yes." 

"Well, I prefer you to look as you do, like Minerva, however you want to look," Albus said simply. 

"I thought that maybe, if I looked older, you might entertain the idea of..." She trailed off, falling into a seat, her eyes glued to the floor. Her stomach was in knots. 

"Ah, I see," Albus said quietly, nodding slowly. "I thought you were happy, Minerva. When we spoke about it-" 

"I am happy," she said quickly. "Don't doubt that." 

"Then why, why has this come up again?" 

"I don't want to lose you." 

"And you think that is the best reason to... Well," he coughed. "Let me tell you, you are not going to lose me because of that." 

"You are a man, Albus, I'm quite aware of that," Minerva said. "And men... Well anyway, that isn't the only reason. I'd like to, we love each other don't we? We...desire each other don't we?" 

"Yes, yes we do but still Minerva, you are so young, my dear," he said, his eyes full of concern. "We shouldn't do anything that you might regret, further on in..." 

"I won't regret it." 

"But you might, you never know. Come now, Minerva, you know where things stand on the score. I think it's best of we just forget about it and let that be the end." 

Minerva shot up out of her seat, anger filling her veins. Her face was twisted, as it always was when she was angry and her mouth was pursed, ready to open and let him. "May I remind you that you are not my professor here!" She shouted. "You cannot tell me when a conversation is finished with! Was it not you who told me that we were equals? Then treat me like one! I say this discussion isn't over but it's obvious that you think it is! If that is so I'll say good afternoon-" 

"Minerva, love-" 

"Don't you 'Minerva love' me!" She cried. "I have more sense than to fall for that! Give me credit for God sake! I think it is clear that you are not going to listen to me! I'm not a child, Albus, I have my own mind and I've made it up-" she stopped for a moment as realisation misted her vision. She felt sick. It was as if she had been hexed across the room, "you don't want me," she said, her voice broken. "That's the reason. I'm good enough to pet and make a fuss of you but really, I'm not-" 

Albus caught her before she fell to the floor. He wrapped one arm around her waist, turning her so that she faced him. "You can be quite silly sometimes," he said somewhat darkly, his voice edging on a growl. "I just want what's best for you. I don't want to hurt you or be something that you come to regret. I love you, damn it and I do want you! I am a man aren't I? What man wouldn't want you, you are beautiful, graceful, enchanting! If I could, I'd have you day and night and never grow bored-" 

"You really mean that?" She gasped. He'd never said such things, only that he loved her, that she was beautiful, that she made him happy. Never anything like that. It took her breathe away. 

"Yes, though I shouldn't admit it to you," Albus replied, his eyes closed. "I do want you, my dear, and it flatters me that you feel the same about me." 

She leant forward and kissed him. "Then why do we always have this same argument? It's not using me when you feel as you do," she kissed him again, slowly, pushing her chest against him. She caught his lip between her teeth. "I would never think that anyway-" 

With a low growl he pushed her down onto the sofa, his mouth in hers, hungrily exploring it. His hands were running over her like they never had before and his full weight was on her, leaving her unable to move. It was wonderful! His mouth moved from her mouth to her neck as he ran his hand up and down her side. 

"Albus-" 

"Yes?" He continued to nip lightly at her neck. 

"You've never-" 

"I know," he said thickly. With a light tug, he pulled the shoulder of her pale green dress down, revealing more of her pale flesh then he ever had before. A part of him knew that he shouldn't be doing this, that he should stop before it got out of hand but- but- 

He sat up suddenly, rubbing his hand on his forehead. Minerva pulled herself up, tugging her dress back onto her shoulder, her heart turning as heavy as stone. "What's wrong?" She asked. 

He turned to her, his eyes deeply blue. He took her hands in his and squeezed them. "You know that I love you?" 

She nodded. 

"More than I ever thought I could love another person," he added quietly. "I want to make you happy. I don't want you to come to regret anything that we do and I do not want you to resent me, that would-" 

"I'll never resent you," she kissed his hand. 

"My dear, it isn't as glorious as you might think," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "I presume that you haven't..." 

"You know that I haven't." 

"Of course," he said quickly. "Well, it's, from what I know, it's not very pleasant. I don't want to hurt you but I'm afraid that that is inevitable." 

"I know," she said. "From Poppy. I'm not afraid, I trust you." 

"If we do this, then you must know that you can change your mind at any point," he paused. "At any point," he stressed. 

Minerva nodded, her mouth dry. Her heart was banging against her chest, her head was swimming. She was frightened and excited all at the same time- it was the right thing to do. They both wanted it. What was a little pain compared to a lifetime of happiness? 

He smiled and stood up slowly. Then he bent down and picked her up with a graceful ease. "I love you, my dear," he whispered, as he carried her through the front room and into his bedroom. 

**********************************

"Come here," Albus said, pulling her closer to him. He kissed her hair and sighed contentedly. 

Minerva wriggled closer, unable to control the grin across her face. She'd never been happier. There was nothing more thrilling than being so close to him, to have their skin touching. She wanted to fall asleep in his arms but didn't want to give up conscious feeling of having him so close. Still, she couldn't hide her yawn. 

"Tired?" He asked. "Shall we get up?" 

"No!" Minerva cried, clutching at his arm. "I'm fine." 

Albus laughed lightly. "If you say so," he said. "But you are alright, my dear?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, haven't I said enough time? I'm fine, better than fine, I'm- wonderful!" 

"Wonderful?" He grinned. 

"Yes," she sighed. "I never thought...oh, I do love you Albus." She said. 

"I'm glad to hear it, for I would be quite heartbroken if you didn't." 

Minerva smiled, closing her eyes. She remembered how nervous she had felt as he carried her from the other room and onto the bed. She remembered how shy she had felt as her clothes came off, slowly, layer by layer. She remembered blushing when she realised that she had no idea what to do. Her heart swelled with love when she thought about how tentative, how understanding Albus had been. He'd done his best to relax her, make her feel loved and to prevent her from suffering to much pain. 

The shock of the pain had made her body go rigid. It had been sharper than she had anticipated and she was shocked to find tears swimming in her eyes. She soon forgot about it when he kissed her, not moving until the pain washed away. By the end, she had decided that the pain was well worth it. 

"Next time, you'll have to show me what to do," she said. 

"Next time?" 

"Oh yes," she grinned. "There will definately be a next time, in fact, I should wager that there will always be a next time." 

Albus laughed, rolling over on top of her. "If I must," he groaned playfully. 

For the next two months, Minerva would learn everything that certainly was not on the school syllabus. The two months would pass in a blur of love and pleasure but both would fall onto the ground with a hard bang.


	7. Confrontation

Minerva, Ellen and Poppy avoided the hospital wing like the plague. Even if they had a limb missing, none of them would venture in there for they would be greeted by endless questions, over the top fussing and, if they caught the medi witch in the wrong mood, barks of sarcasm. Minerva and Ellen were grateful that Poppy had decided to study medicine for on the rare occasions when they were sick, they could rely on Poppy to help them, for her knowledge was extensive and her skills exemplary - after all, medicine was in her blood. The Medi witch of the school was none other than Poppy's small, fearless mother, Priscilla. 

Priscilla Pomfrey was a skilled witch and a good mother but lacked patience when it came to students. If a student was brought in with a broken limb, or deep cut because of some sort of prank or rule breaking activity, she held little sympathy for them. She would treat them but gave them hardly anything for the pain, declaring that that would teach them a lesson. Headmaster Dippet supported her methods, for he had the same old fashioned approach and as a result, she doted on him. Apart from her husband, she thought Dippet the best man in the world - so clever, so thoughtful! And so, she suffered no rule breaking, not even a whisper between patients went unreported to the headmaster, including the rule breaking of her daughter and her two friends.

It was for this reason that Minerva and Poppy found themselves skulking about the empty ward just before dinner. There was a staff meeting and it was the only time that Priscilla would be away from her little, cluttered office at the far end of the ward. Both girls held their breath as they tip toed between the beds - a sheet out of place or a blanket creased even a little would give them away. 

"And you are sure the book will be in her office?" Minerva whispered. 

Poppy nodded. "Doubly sure, it's something that she's needed numerous times but not something that should be on show for everyone to see," she replied. "Oh, Minerva, why can't you have a split lip or something, I know how to fix those!" 

"So do I," Minerva sighed. 

When they reached the little wooden door of the office, neither tried to open it. Of course it would be locked. Minerva took her wand from the inside of her robe and whispered numerous spells. Eventually, with a faint, pale lemon glow, the door opened. They cringed as the hinges squeaked and Poppy nervously looked around before they jumped inside and closed the door. 

"Do you know where she keeps it?" Minerva asked. 

"No but a little light on the subject would be helpful," Poppy said as she began searching through the high, over stuffed mahogany desk. Minerva brought the light closer and Poppy began moving faster, scanning the titles of dozens of books that were jammed into the numerous drawers. She felt relieved when she finally came across the purple, leather bound book, a thick, aged book and she held it up in triumph. "I've got it!"

"Oh, thank God!" Minerva cried, relieved. "Quickly, look for the spell, we don't have much time. Dippet doesn't like meetings."

"How do you know that?" Poppy asked suspiciously as she hunted through the ageing pages. 

"Your mother mentioned it once," Minerva lied. Priscilla would never say anything of the sort - it had been Albus who had mentioned it once or twice before. He said it was because the headmaster was getting older and could no longer tolerate the boredom that came with the numerous staff meetings. 

Poppy nodded but said nothing. They both knew that Minerva was lying but they also both knew that she would never tell Poppy the truth. Instead, Poppy got on with frantically scanning through the book, her friend was in trouble and she wasn't about to waste time that could help her by asking questions that would never be answered anyway. She smiled when she saw the spell, written in fine black ink. She read it a few times before she said, "Right. I think I can do this, hold still." 

Minerva nodded as Poppy drew out her wand and concentrating very hard, muttered a few words that Minerva didn't hear. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears as she clenched her fists. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look at Poppy's face who would tell her the answer. 

"Minerva," Poppy whispered. "I've conducted the spell three times... Minerva, I'm so sorry-" 

Her eyes flew open, bright green, determined eyes. "I see," was all she could say. 

"What are you going to do? Are you going to tell me who it is now?"

"You should put the book back, we need to leave before your mother comes," Minerva said flatly. She waited for Poppy to replace the book and they left together, in silence. Minerva could hardly think - she felt sick. Everything was spinning. How was she going to get out of this? What was going to happen to her? 

When they reached the portrait hole, Poppy stopped and pulled a dumb struck Minerva into a tight embrace. "I wish I could help you, I really do," she whispered. 

"I'm such a fool." 

"Hardly," Poppy said. "You are just unlucky." 

"Yes... unlucky," Minerva pulled herself away and smoothed down her skirts. She coughed. "I'm going to the library."

"I thought you might," Poppy sighed. "I'm right here if you need me." 

"I know," she smiled sadly. She turned on her heels and began her march to Albus's rooms. 

She sat outside, slumped against the cold stone wall, waiting for him. He smiled at her as he came around the corner but it quickly fell away when he saw how pale and fearful her face was. He held out a hand to help her off the floor but said nothing until he'd closed the door. He followed Minerva as she made her way into the living room, his stomach niggling with nerves. "My dear-"

"I'm going to have a baby," Minerva blurted. She hadn't planned on being so abrupt but she was so shocked, so terrified that she couldn't control her words. She needed everything to be out in the open so that this horrid, desperate situation would be fixed as quickly as possible. Albus, she was sure, would know what do to. There was only a few months of term left, maybe a disillusion spell could hide her figure until then and when she left school, maybe he'd marry her. Yes, maybe he would. The thought of being his wife warmed her cold, frightened heart for a moment.

"I'm sorry?" Albus questioned, his brow furrowed.

"I'm in the family way," she whispered. 

"You can't be serious!" He cried as his face paled. "This is not a thing to joke about, Minerva-"

"I am not joking," she said. "I do not joke about things like this." 

"Oh God!" He shouted. "What am I going to do?" 

She stared at him. She had expected him to gain control over the situation, to guide her, to comfort her as he laid out his plan. Instead, he looked just as terrified and shocked and desperate as Minerva felt and a fresh, icy fear crept over her skin. "Albus, I'm-"

"How?" He barked, his eyes wide and piercing. 

She blushed. "You know how! I shouldn't have thought that you'd need to ask." 

He held up his hand. "Tart remarks are hardly the thing I need right now. What I mean is how could you let this happen? We discussed...precautions and you said that you were capable-" 

"I thought I was!" Minerva cried, resentful that the blame was being placed entirely on her."I don't know what went wrong, something obviously did." 

"Clearly!" He began pacing the hallway, up and down, his head shaking. "I should have done it myself, how could I expect a child to -" He stopped as if stunned. He turned slowly, his face dark. "Did you do this on purpose?" 

Her heart shattered. In one moment her heart lay in pieces on the floor at her feet. She opened her mouth to speak but the words caught on the lump in her throat. She stamped her foot in frustration - why couldn't she speak? 

He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her a little. His blue eyes were wild; full of fear, sickness, mistrust. "Did you? Did you do this on purpose? Answer me!" He growled. 

Finally, her temper overtook her anguish and she found words, heated, raw words. "Get your hands off of me," she hissed, her eyes latched onto his. She wrenched away from his grip. "Don't you touch me, Dumbledore. How can you even ask me... I thought that you knew me - I'm - I thought that you loved me. Like I love you. I thought that you would be able to see how frightened and lonely I feel. I thought that you would have been able to make it better, to give me hope. Now I can see that you are no extraordinary man as they say. You are just as cowardly as the rest. It is not just my fault, as you seem to believe it is. And I would never sink so low as to trap you in this manner!" She began to scream: "Don't you even look my way again, Sir, for it sickens me to have your eyes on me! I want nothing more to do with you, you've broken my heart, you've... How could you accuse me thus? How could you think so lowly of me? I- get out of my way," she barged past him. She was going to cry but she couldn't let him see her break down. That would be soul destroying. She marched from his rooms, along the corridors and a knife sharp pain shot through her when she noticed that he didn't follow her, or even call after her. 

 

**********************************************************************************************************************

 

And so, Minerva was alone. As she fell back into her pillows, the realisation that she wouldn't receive any help from anybody she thought she could rely on. It didn't seem real. Here she was, Minerva McGonagall, star student with an amazing future in front of her, pregnant with her professor's child. She cringed. What a fool she'd been to believe in love and forget herself all over the feeling of being wanted. Love was useless, she knew now, it only brought hassle and heartbreak - it wasn't worth it. Love had gotten her into this mess and love had let her down. 

She groaned. It was no use deciding what love did and didn't do. That wouldn't solve her problem. Inside her thrived a child that, in all honesty, was going to ruin her life. It would be a spectacularly brilliant child she knew, for it shared her blood and Albus's. Even if she hated the thought of him, she could admit to herself that he was powerful and talented. It didn't matter how wonderful the child was though, there was no way that Minerva could have the child. A quick adoption was all that was on offer for her but even then - she'd have to tell her mother, tell the authorities who the father was and thus uncover her own shame, her own stupidity. She'd be taken out of school and everybody would ask questions -

She sat up. No, there was no way - there was only one way that this could all work out. It was selfish, it was dangerous but it had to be done, for all their sakes. While the magical world offered opportunities sometimes beyond the imagination, when it came to single, unmarried mothers and their unwanted children were restricted by the same unfeeling prejudices. Unmarried mothers were never employed, never helped by their neighbours and the bastard children were scorned by adults and children alike. Minerva couldn't allow her child to be ashamed of itself, especially when it was Minerva's own fault and stupidity that it was scorned at rather than the fault of the child. Minerva wasn't about to let her child suffer because of her own mistakes. 

Just as the wizarding world shunned single mothers, it also forbid any means of ridding of the child. Terminations were illegal, just as they were in the Muggle world. The only thing available were secret terminations that were performed by money hungry men who used dark magic that nearly always had fatal consequences. There was no way that Minerva was silly enough to run to those men - besides, she knew enough of the muggle world to know that it was probably much safer to go to one of the women hidden down a lane that would hitch you up on a table and have it all sorted in the blink of an eye. 

Just as the thought flittered through her head, her mind was made up. That was the best way, she would go to a muggle woman - now. If she went to Edinburgh and found her way to the east of the city, she knew that Mrs Roberts lived in one of the tiny bungalows that lined the border between the city and the country. The woman had been notorious since Minerva's childhood and she prayed that the woman hadn't died. 

She leapt from her bed and began to rummage through her wardrobe. She pulled out a black hat and light, spring coat and made sure her wand was tucked into her sleeve. She nodded to herself in the mirror, her mind unfaltering. She couldn't, wouldn't change her mind. She continued with the same grim determination as she flew silently through the dark grounds of the castle. She knew that the gates wouldn't have been locked yet, why, the keeper wouldn't have left the warmth of the staffroom yet and so she hastily ran on, trying to catch her breathe as she did. 

When she was halfway down the lane that connected the school and Hogsmeade when she finally stopped and leant against the cold, harsh trunk of a tree. Just as she felt the tears come, just as she felt her resolve quiver slightly, she closed her eyes. 

As she opened them again, she was in the middle of the busy, bright streets of Edinburgh. 


	8. Endings

Poppy felt herself being shaken awake. She groaned loudly - she hated being woken up. If she didn't wake up naturally, she would spend the rest of the day with a groggy head. "What?" she hissed, keeping her eyes closed. 

"Poppy, please," a quiet voice rasped. 

She opened her eyes and gasped. Before her was Minerva, doubled over in pain. Her face was grey and sweating, her eyes bright with fever and she clutched at her stomach. As Poppy looked down, she noticed a pool of crimson at Minerva's feet. "What have you done?" She asked as she jumped to her feet and grasped Minerva firmly by the shoulders. She guided her to the bed and, with a flick of her wand, lowered her gently onto the plump pillows. "I need you to move your legs apart, Minerva," she said softly. It was obvious what Minerva had done, Poppy didn't think that her friend could be so irresponsible. 

"I don't think I can," Minerva's voice shook as her whole body trembled with pain. 

Poppy did it for her, gently moving each leg to the side. "I can't see a thing, I'm going to have to put a light on," Minerva cried out in a weak protest but Poppy ignored her. The room was lit before Minerva's cry had finished passing her lips and with it Ellen stirred. 

Ellen's eyes nearly burst from her her round head when she saw the blood, Minerva's face and Poppy's furrowed brow. "What's happened?" 

"Never mind that!" Poppy barked. "I need you over here, hold her leg up, high, I need to be able to see."

Ellen paled. She wasn't very good with blood, especially when so much came from her dearest friend. Fear of another reprimand from Poppy made her rush over and gently pull up a leg. She watched as Poppy banished Minerva's drenched skirts and stockings before she fell onto her knees and gasped. "I can't, there's too much blood-"

"You have to!" Minerva said through gritted teeth. 

"I'm sorry, I can't, you'll have to go to my mother, I'll go and get Dumble-"

"No! Please!" Minerva cried desperately but her head rolled back as she began to grunt with pain. 

"I'm sorry, but I have no choice," Poppy spluttered through a constricted throat. "There's too much blood, you'll die," guilt tore at her as she hurried away, calling back at Ellen, "Keep that damn leg up!" 

As she hurried through the corridors, she wondered where she had found all her strength. Minerva was ill, quite ill, Poppy wasn't sure if she would die or not - if Minerva died, Poppy would be devastated. While she was bitterly angry that Minerva had obviously been to see a butcher tonight to rid her of her problem, she loved the girl like a sister. Minerva was clever, strong and kind - it had all been this damn boys fault. If only she could get her hands on him, she'd kill him. She had her suspicions but she wasn't one to jump in head first. 

But look at what he had done to Minerva! If only he could see the state that she was in, Poppy knew that it would haunt him forever. Why, Poppy couldn't shake it from her mind. The blood, the pale face, the lifeless eyes, the sweat, the shaking - if Poppy were not so fixed upon getting her to the hospital wing, she would have broken down. Her heart was swelling with each step, she was swallowing great sobs and tears were slipping between the cracks in her round eyes. 

As Dumbledore swung open the door and revealed his dark face, Poppy lost her words. Once she admitted to somebody that Minerva, her dearest friend, was dying, she knew that she would not be able to hold it in. Everything would come pouring out and to this man, who looked unwelcoming and irritated that she should knock on his door. 

"Am I forever to be haunted by Miss Mcgonagall's friends, who knock on my door at ridiculous hours of the night?" His tone was harsher than she'd ever heard it. 

"I think, I think-" here it came, the tears, the sobs, the snot and the wails. "I think Minerva might die!" 

"What has she done?" He hissed, his face suddenly pale and frantic. He slammed the door behind him and waited as Poppy wiped her eyes and attempted to gain some composure. "Where is she, in the hospital wing?" 

Poppy shook her head. "No, sir, you see, she's done something awful and she wanted me to help her without my mother but I can't - there's too much blood, I don't even know where to start," Her face was wet again but she didn't bother to wip her tears. Her friend was dying. Run

"Run!" He barked. "Tell your mother that I am coming! Quick!" 

He didn't watch her go, for he made straight for the tower. His mind was a mess - he had some idea of what she'd done and he knew the complications, he knew what they meant. He had seen it before, many, many years ago and the girl had suffered in her last moments. He didn't think that Minerva would have done something like that, if he'd had any inclination that she was going to do that, he wouldn't have let her storm from his rooms earlier on. If only he'd called her back, if only he hadn't been so defensive, so accusing - 

He gasped when he reached the dormitory. Nothing could have prepared him. Miss White stood with Minerva's long, left leg in the air, tears streaming down her red, dimpled face. Minerva's right leg hung limply off of the bed, her head bent to the side and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Everything was sticky with blood; the sheets, Minerva, Miss White's arms, her clothes. It was everywhere and seemed to continue to pour and pour. He stood motionless for a moment, unable to think clearly, methodically. 

"I thought Poppy was going to get her mother," Miss White said quickly. "I would have covered Minerva up-"

"I hardly think now is the time for propriety, do you?" He replied. Even if he didn't know Minerva in such an intimate way, it needn't of mattered. He wasn't taking any notice of that, only the blood, only her rasping breathes and the twisting of her sweet face. "I'm going to carry her to the Hospital wing," he said slowly. "You need to go in front of me, to light the way, I don't want to trip or anything." 

Miss White nodded seriously as she gently lowered Minerva's leg. "Poppy told me to hold that up, I don't know if it's done any good," she muttered. She scurried out of Albus's way and stood in the doorway, her wand already brightly lit. 

With his heart in his mouth and shame running through him, Albus gently scooped Minerva into his arms. She cried out, a shrill, piercing cry of pain and Albus had to fight back sudden tears. "I'm so sorry, love," he whispered into her ear. She felt lighter than ever before as the three of them made their way through the castle. She was so fragile, so weak - her moans and gasps of pain were the only things of any strength as they escaped her pale throat. With each gasp, Albus had to focus on keeping himself together. His heart was in shreds, he felt sick with fear - if she died he felt as if he might too. His love for her was flooding to the surface, he only wished he could change places and suffer instead of her. 

"Good God, look at her!" Priscilla Pomfrey cried as Albus entered the empty wing. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Poppy, Ellen, get out. Don't dither, get out!" She ordered. She didn't need to ask twice for the two girls quickly hurried away, hand in hand. "Albus, bring her to the back, here," she held a lamp over the bed. "For God sake, lay her down gently." 

He nodded and with such concentration that his brow became wet, he laid his life down on the bed as gently as he could. It didn't stop her from crying out in pain. 

"You are covered!" Priscilla said, indicating towards his robes. "Has the bleeding slowed at all?"

Albus shook his head. 

"I thought not," she paused for a minute as she ran her hand over Minerva's feverish forehead. "Albus, Poppy has told me that she thinks Minerva may have... had a termination. Poppy said that she couldn't see any magical scars so Minerva has most probably gone to a muggle."

"I see," a lump caught in Albus's throat as he thought of how brave she must have been to go to one of those people, those  butchers, by herself. 

"I know that this is a delicate matter but none of the women here have any more sense than a goat. Albus, would you stay to help me? Otherwise, she might have to go to St Mungo's and then her mother would have to be informed and as silly as the girl has been, she shouldn't have to suffer her mother berating her for the rest of her life. I've met the woman and nobody deserves that!"

"Just tell me what to do." 

"Thank you, but I can't promise that she'll get through this."

Albus nodded. 

It took them three long, gruelling hours. Priscilla guided him slowly while she worked more efficiently and skill fully than any witch or wizard he had ever seen. She worked diligently and gently. She did her best, that was very clear and Albus could not have been more grateful to her when she announced, all of those hours after they started, "She's stable. With the potions, she'll be stronger in the morning." 

He smiled. "Thank you, Priscilla, you are a miracle." 

She nodded slowly and bit her lip. "Albus," she said very quietly. "I tried my best, I thought I might," tears began to fall down her face. She looked quite old suddenly. "There is so much scaring, she'll never be able to have children." 

It was all of his fault. 


	9. Shifting

She woke up to a soft stroking of her forehead. She opened her eyes and quickly clamped them shut again- it was far too bright. She tried to bring her hand up to rub her eyes but found that she couldn't lift it. She groaned weakly. She noticed how dry her mouth was and how her jaw ached when she tried to move it. 

"Are you awake, dear?" 

Minerva nodded slowly. She knew the voice, although she had never heard it spoken so softly. She knew where she was and with a sudden flash of memory, knew everything that had happened. 

"Yes, I'm awake," she croaked. "I'd kill for a drink, please." 

Almost immediately there was a glass held to her parched lips. Minerva sipped slowly and moved her mouth away as she felt her stomach growl in protest. She turned her head away. She wanted to turn her whole body but found that she could hardly move her toes, let alone her legs. Her stomach ached and burned, her legs were limp and unresponsive. She felt vulnerable and hated it. 

"How are you feeling?" Priscilla asked.

"Sore," Minerva muttered, regaining some of her voice. "Though I doubt as sore as I deserve," she added wryly. She shook her head weakly. "How could I be so stupid? I should have known that it wouldn't end well." 

"Sometimes, when one is desperate, we do not think rationally," Priscilla agreed softly. Then she added, with the reprimanding tone that Minerva was used to: "But it was indeed silly. You came so close to death - why? Why did you do it? And why didn't you come straight to me? Did you think that I would scold you then and there? I would have helped you long before I pointed out the stupidity of it all! I could scold you now, but there is no need, Professor Dumbledore is waiting outside."

"You can't let him in!" Minerva's grey skin turned a sickly green.

"Minerva, he's waited outside for two days. He carried you all the way here from your dormitory and then he helped me for three hours, with out question or complaint. By the time I sent him up to bed, he was covered with more of your blood than what was being pumped around your veins at that moment in time. Besides all of that, he is your head of house. You've broken a rule or two and I have to let him in." 

"Would you at least help me sit up?" Minerva said quickly. She knew she was defeated and she saw no point in whipping a dead horse. 

"Yes, but first-" she stopped, thoughtful for a moment. "My dear, what happened, well it lead to many complications. It was very difficult... there was a lot of damage inflicted," she closed her eyes. "What I am trying to say is, the damage is permanent. I cannot rid it. I'm so very sorry, Minerva, but you will never be able to have children."

Minerva nodded, biting her lip to prevent her scream of pain and loss escaping. One act, one decision had ruined her whole life. She could never be a mother, she would never hold a soft, innocent child in her arms that shared her blood; she would wave goodbye with pride as her darling went to school, she would never stand next to her flesh and blood as they took vows of matrimony- she would never be a grandmother with a toddler bouncing on her knee. She suddenly felt useless.

Priscilla gently helped her up, plumping several cushions behind her to support her back. She patted her hand affectionately before she left Minerva, who breathed in deeply as her heart shook, waiting for him. She was still angry at him, hurt by him but most of all she feel the soft chill of nerves pace through her skin. 

He came in slowly, shutting the door behind him. Every moment seemed laborious, heavy and painful. He looked tired as dark, low circles clung to the bottom of his brilliant blue eyes. As he lowered himself into the chair next to her, he drew in a sharp breath. 

"I'm glad you are awake," he said. "Any pain?"

Minerva shook her head. "Hardly," she replied quietly. She suppressed a little, low sob that was threatening to escape - she loved him and yet everything had gone so horribly wrong. How could that be?

"That's good," he said dully. He quickly glanced at her, saw that her face wasn't as deathly white and looked away again. He noticed that her gaze was strictly on him. Did she want him to say something to comfort her? To ease her pain? He wasn't sure what to say, what was appropriate to say in such circumstances. 

As ever, it was Minerva who spoke frankly. She could always be relied on for that, whether it was appropriate or not. 

"How could you?" 

"What?"

"How could you?" She repeated. She wasn't willing to expand, if he were any kind of man he would realise what she meant. She had decided that if he was going to sit in here and asked awkward, mandatory questions then that was a waste of their time. If he had insisted on coming in, they may as well make use of their time together, after all, they were adults and adults needed to talk about things, even those things that made were tense and complicated. 

"I panicked," he admitted. "When you told be - well, I couldn't see...In that moment, I saw nothing but a black hole and we were both spiralling into it. A baby! Not just a baby but a baby with a student! I couldn't see a way out, I couldn't see how we could have made that work. Selfishly, I wanted to blame somebody, anybody but me, I don't know why I asked you if you did it on purpose. I know you, Minerva, and I knew then, somewhere within me I knew that you would never do that, I was simply too frightened to accept responsibility." 

"Coward."

"I know," he said earnestly. "It was cowardly and I regretted it within moments. You left so quickly- I thought I might give you the night to calm down, so that I could vainly kneel before you the next morning with an impressive bouquet of flowers and an ostentatious ring."

Her stomach dropped and her heart leapt to her throat. "A-a ring?" she stammered, her green eyes wide.

He turned to look at her then. "Yes," he sighed. "After my initial shock, I realised what a fool I'd been. I realised how frightened you must have felt, barely seventeen and in a delicate condition, the result of a relationship with a man a lot older, who happens to be your teacher. I was ashamed at how ungallant I acted and for that I give you my sincere apologies. I knew that the right thing to do would be to marry you, not simply because that is the honourable thing to do but because I love you and if you were my wife, I couldn't be happier. I should have gone to you sooner, I realise that now, but once I'd made my mind up to ask for your hand, I had to purchase the ring. If I'd had any idea that you would have been so foolish, forgive me, my dear, but it most certainly was, I would have followed you and dragged you back if I'd had to." 

She couldn't hide the tears. What had she done? If her damn temper and pride hadn't gotten in the way, she would have had everything she could ever want. She would be the wife of the man whom she loved and adored and she would have been the mother to a dear, if unexpected, baby. "You would have married me?" 

"Yes."

"Will you still?" She asked childishly. 

"No." 

Her heart sank. "Oh." 

"Not because I do not love you, because I do," he said quickly. "Because I do. When I thought you were going to die that night, when I saw all that blood, so much endless blood, I nearly gave up. Why live when the woman I love is dead? When you were finally safe, I was euphoric, really I was. I wanted to stay with you but Pris- Madam Pomfrey ordered me to bed. Of course, I couldn't sleep. I just kept seeing you, suffering because of me, I kept thinking about the mess that we were in. You are so young, Minerva, this is all too much," he sighed. "And that is why I cannot marry you." 

"My age again, how many times-" 

"Isn't this enough?" He asked. "Doesn't this whole damn situation tell you that we are not right? That we shouldn't-"

"Is it because I'm barren now?"

He blanched. 

"You did know?" She asked. 

"Yes, I knew," he said quietly. "I just do not see why you would think that was why I'm putting a stop to everything."

"I was just wondering," Minerva said bitterly. "I wouldn't blame you." 

"No. I'm ending it because I want you to have a life, a career, new experiences. I want you to find the love of your life, for I'm sure that you will find a man more suitable that can give you everything, that want's to share his life with you-"

"I shouldn't think so," she said dully. "I can't give him a family."

"It wouldn't matter to him."

"It's all that matters," she hung her head. She was nothing now, even Albus, who she thought would love her no matter what, didn't want her because she was hardly a woman any more. "Just go, Albus. I- I want to be alone."

"We can still-"

"Don't patronise me," she hissed. "Good day, Professor, thank you for all of your help."

"Good bye, Minerva, I'm so sorry."

He was gone before she looked up again. She saw the empty room through watery eyes. She was alone, how she always would be. Her bitter heart snapped painfully and she wailed.


	10. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two: Professor
> 
> As Minerva's friends begin to shape new lives for themselves, she takes a new route, putting on a brave face and trying to leave the past behind her. 
> 
> What she cannot control is her heart and it is leading her to unexpected and familiar places, where is will surely be broken.

Minerva shifted the child awkwardly in her arms. Why couldn't it stay still? She grimaced as it lurched forward- how tight could one hold an infant?

Ellen, pink with happiness, laughed. "You look a little uncomfortable there," she smiled, lifted the child with ease into her own arms. Minerva observed that the child, a great fat boy, hardly moved around as much in Ellen's arms. "He's starting to get a little impatient, aren't you love?" She kissed the top of his fair head. 

In the six years since they had left school, Ellen had certainly grown up the most. She'd married within months of leaving Hogwarts after a whirlwind romance. Minerva and Poppy had been worried about the whole thing, for their friend was sweet and delicate and to marry so quickly had it drawbacks. But Ellen had proven that her talents had been hidden all the while she was at school for they could not be taught; she was a caring and attentive wife, a brilliant seamstress and a wonderful housewife. She came into her own as soon as she came Mrs Eli Prewitt but when their first son was born, she really shone. She doted on him, adored him and simply would not be without him. When it came to her son, she found a confidence that even she did not know she had and a competence that she had always lacked. 

Now, as Minerva stood looking at her friend hold her second child, another boy, at his christening, she couldn't help but be happy for her. She had certainly come into her own. She kept a lovely house, a neat little three bedroom cottage with an absolutely wonderful garden. Minerva had spent the last half an hour away from the great marquee that hovered over the patio, in the little grassed area at the back which was lined with bright flowers and shadowed by great, high trees. It was quite beautiful.

"This one looks just like her, doesn't he," Poppy said as Ellen ran off to show another relative the new baby. "He's a lovely baby, almost makes me want one. Hopefully he'll start screaming in a minute and knock that thought right out of my head!"

Minerva laughed. "You are about as motherly as I am," she said. "Did you see the way he kept squirming in my arms? I'm terrified of dropping the thing, or holding him too tight that I might break a rib!"

"I've heard that babies are steadier than they seem," Poppy replied. 

"I suppose otherwise-" She stopped at her heart leapt into her mouth. She felt the colour drain from her face. She felt her legs weaken. 

He was here. Albus was here. Oh God, Albus was here. 

What was more shocking than him being only feet away from her was the way her heart reacted. It ached as soon as she saw him, a painful ache that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She suddenly realised how much she missed him, how long it had been since she had allowed herself to think of him. It was easier for her if she didn't think of him, for she still loved him as much as she had six years ago and she had no intention of trying to find another love. Albus was all that she wanted. 

"What is he doing here?" She whispered to herself but Poppy heard. 

"Oh, he came with me," she said. "Ellen said we could bring a guest, so I brought Dumbledore." 

Minerva was shocked. She held her breathe, surely Poppy and Albus couldn't be..."Are you...?"

Poppy went bright red and guffawed with laughter. "Oh, you are funny, girl!" She cried. "No! Of course not! When he politely asked me what I would be doing this weekend, I told him about Ellen's baby. I said that me and you were to be god parents and at the mention of your name he became very interested. He asked how you are and all that and then he mentioned that he had intended on writing to you for some reason or another and I told him to just come here with me." 

Minerva nodded slowly. He had wanted to write to her? While she tried to hardly think about him, she always felt a little disappointment when the post arrived each day and there was nothing from him. She supposed that she always wished that he would write, saying what she didn't know, but just to hear from him, just to read words that he had written, she longed for it. And now, here was Poppy telling her that he was going to write. Was he going to tell her that he loved her, that he'd made a mistake in letting her go? Her heart began to race at the thought, was all her suffering about to come to an end. 

She couldn't breathe as Poppy lead him to her. Her eyes were fixed on his, eyes that she hadn't seen in so long and were still as wonderful as before. It was as if there was no one else around them as he made his way to her, with long, smooth strides and smiled at her. That smile, the smile that had invaded her mind and haunted her dreams for years. "Professor," she croaked. 

"Miss Mcgonagall, it's lovely to see you," he said and then sighed as Poppy left them. "It really is."

"Is it?" She whispered, lowering her head. She hadn't expected so much pain at hearing his voice again, a voice that came from his own mouth, rather than the one that played over and over again in her mind. 

"Yes," he answered simply. "Care for a stroll?" 

She nodded and followed him as he began to walk the length the garden, his long arms held behind him. Unlike most women who were forced to patter beside him because of his strides, Minerva was able to keep up elegantly, thanks to her long legs. 

"I read your work every week," he said. 

She blushed. Her articles that were published every week about Transfiguration and all the new research projects that had suddenly sprung up were popular but she'd hardly expected Albus to have the time for them. "Thank you, I liked writing them at first but recently, the whole thing has become rather dull."

"Well, it isn't evident, my dear, I enjoy them," he reassured. "They are full of you, your mannerisms, your way of thinking, they are a delight."

"Thank you."

He paused for a minute, drawing in air and slowly letting it out again. "It suits me that you are no longer enjoying it," he admitted. "For I have a post at the school and I only really want you to take it."

"What post, Professor?"

"Mine."

"You are leaving?" She bit back tears. There was no way that she was going to work at Hogwarts if he wasn't there. 

He smiled. "No, Miss Mcgonagall, but the Headmaster is, I'm to fill his boots, as they say." 

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Minerva cried, forgetting the restrictions of tone she had placed upon herself. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," he went a little pink. "I am pleased, I've wanted to change a few things for years but Armando is very... old fashioned." 

"Yes, I can remember."

"And so now my teaching post is open and I want you to have it." 

Minerva closed her eyes. "Why?" she asked tentatively. 

"Because you are more than capable, in fact, I think you will excel at it," he said.

She nodded. That was the greatest compliment, she knew, but still - a part of her had hoped that it would be because he missed her and wanted her near him again. She sighed. She was being ridiculous, it had been six long years, he had most probably forgotten her in that way now, it was just her being a fool. 

"Is that nod a yes?" 

"I- Will it work?" She asked quietly, not daring to look at him. 

He furrowed his brows in confusion for a moment before he understood. "Ah," he said quietly. He nodded. "I didn't think that would be an issue."

"Well, it could be, we don't know. I haven't seen you in six years, since you... well, I haven't seen you," she said.

"I told you, I wanted you find a new life, a life that could offer you more than I could-"

"You were going to marry me," she blurted.

"Yes... the circumstances called for it."

"Not what we felt?"

"I could never take a wife that I didn't love."

She nodded. At least that answered a few hundred questions that she'd had. "I see," she paused for a moment. She was torn. Cowardice was stopping her, fear of what he might say but she'd lived in limbo for long enough, she'd been tormented for far too long. She swallowed, and her pale, elegant hands curled into determined fists. "Well, I haven't found the life that you wanted me to. I told you then and I'll tell you now, I don't want it. I thought I had found what I wanted, I thought that I needn't search for anything else but you had other ideas. Just because I was young didn't mean that I didn't know exactly what I wanted. Look at Ellen! She married the first boy she met and look at how happy they are! They had their first baby when they were barely eighteen and that seemed to be the right decision, seeing as we are here today for a second child! We could have had that-" she stopped. She had phrased it wrong. Bile rose in her throat. They could never have had that. They could never have stood with beaming faces with a child in their arms. Minerva would never have that. She could never give him that.

As if he read her mind, he reached out and squeezed her arm gently. "My dear, sometimes we lose things to gain others," he said gently.

Minerva shook her head. "It seems to me that I have gained nothing," she declared. "I live in a tiny flat on my own, I work day and night to write something that my heart isn't in, I am childless without any hope of becoming a mother and I have to live knowing that I'll be on my own for the rest of my life," her voice cracked towards the end. She had never said her misery out loud and with it put into words it felt much more real. She had no life really, she had nothing to give and no one that loved her. She thought about being old and helpless, with nobody to visit her, and she was frightened.

"You won't be on your own," he said softly. "Look at you. All it will take is some lovely chap to get to know you and he'll never want to leave you."

"He won't want me," Minerva scoffed. "He'll run a mile when I tell him that no, I cannot give him a family because I rendered myself absolutely useless when I was seventeen!" She had began to raise her voice in frustration. Didn't he understand anything? Did he think that once he had broken her heart she would be on her merry way and within months shacked up with a miracle man who didn't want children and wanted to live with a woman who could never love him? She shook her head, he was deluded. 

"You are not useless."

"Oh, I am," she shot back. "And anyway, if such a man were to present himself, I don't want him. You know that I never wanted - I haven't changed, Albus. I told you that I wouldn't but you didn't listen!"

He closed his eyes. "Perhaps, I made a mistake, perhaps you shouldn't-"

She grabbed his arm. "If you are unwilling to say anything more on the subject, then I will stop," she said as evenly as she could. "I do not want you to feel uncomfortable. in regards to the job, I will make sure that my personal feelings do not effect it. I'd like the job, if it's still on offer." 

He thought for a moment and sighed, as if he had been defeated by his own self. "It is. Come on Tuesday, school starts in two weeks, it will give you a chance to get settled. I know Poppy will be pleased."

"Thank you, yes, I suppose she will." 

"And Minerva?"

"Yes?"

"Do not believe that you are useless, you are extraordinary." 

 

**************************************************************************************************************

 

It didn't take Minerva long to pack up her things. For five years since her mother had died, she had lived in a tiny one bedroom flat in West London. The roof leaked, the windows were rotting and the bathroom continually smelled of damp but it was all she could afford on her wages and so she had had no choice. She hadn't bothered to try to build a life there and so as she went about the flat with a single box in her hands she only placed a few items in there. A couple of photo albums, her certificates from school and her bundle of letters - most were from her father but three were from Albus, quick little notes, that he had sent her during their time together. 

Her clothes and books had already been sent up to the school and as she looked around what had served as her home for five years, she felt no sadness. She was leaving this part of her life behind, the part where she grieved for the loss of Albus, of her chance to be a mother, for her uselessness and her loneliness. She was glad to be rid of this place, it had become a part of her misery and as she pulled her cloak around her and shut the door, she didn't bother to look back. 

She apparated quietly, an ability that few possessed and found herself outside at the foot of the bridge that lead to the castle. It looked the same, huge and imposing against the light blue sky. The windows, turrets and towers were all the same and Minerva smiled at their familiarity. Until she found herself in the halls and rooms that she had spent her time in when Albus had loved her, she would be happy to be here. It was as if she were coming home again, for it was the only place she had ever felt at home, despite the coldness she had received from most of the jealous students. 

She sighed happily as she walked across the bridge, running a hand along the wood as she went. She looked down into the lake, up into the mountains and smiled. It was good to be away from the busy, grimey city and she hadn't realised how much she missed clean, light air and space. 

By the time she had crossed the bridge and was making her way to the front steps, he was there waiting. She noticed that he looked slightly nervous, swaying on his feet. She smiled brightly at him, she was happy to see him. Since they had met at the christening she had found her spirit lighter. Whether that was because of the new job or because she had seen him for the first time in years she wasn't sure. But she had a feeling which of the two it was for she knew that she would work in the dirtiest shop in Knockturn Alley if she could go home to Albus every night. 

"You look lovely, my dear," he said. 

She stopped and cocked her head slightly. It was a strange sort of greeting. "Really, Albus?" 

"I didn't really know what else to say," he admitted with a slight shrug. 

"Right," she said. "You needn't have met me, I know my way around this castle well enough," she said rather tightly. She was still annoyed about his reluctance to talk about anything important at the christening. 

"I wondered..." he paused thoughtfully. "I wondered if you would, sit with me, in my office for a while. I think we have things to discuss." 

She nodded, panic filling her. His tone was so serious and she had never heard him be like that since he'd visited her in the hospital wing. Was he about to tell her that this was mistake, that he couldn't deal with working with her and that she no longer had the job? Was he going to make her go back to her old, miserable life, the life she thought she had said goodbye to forever? 

She followed him through the stone passages of the castle, her hands wrung together in front of her. She felt like a scolded student following her Professor to his office to have a weeks worth of detentions handed to her and dozens of house points taken. 

His office that stood above the stone, gargoyle steps was the one that Headmaster Dippet had occupied, only it was much changed. It was filled with trinkets and books, smelled sweet and was much more homely. She sighed. It was filled with Albus and she had always dreamt that her own home would feel like this. She took a seat in front of his high, shining desk that was scattered with papers and ink pots. In the corner sat a bowl filled with sherbet lemons and she couldn't help but roll her eyes- he'd kill himself one day with those damn things. 

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about everything that you said the other day," he said as he took the seat opposite her on the other side of the wide desk. "Some things... they stick in the mind."

"Do they?" She asked flippantly. 

"Yes. Minerva, I'm sorry that I have made you feel useless-"

"You didn't do it," she said quickly. She didn't want to talk about this part, this part hurt the most. 

"Oh, it is just as much my fault as yours," he said. "It was my child, after all. I should have made sure that you knew what you were doing, to prevent a child." 

Minerva shook her head. "I wouldn't have let you, I was too sure of myself." 

"Nevertheless, I should have tried. It's my fault that you went running to one of those, those people. I should have reacted differently-"

"Proposed you mean?"

"Yes, that and other ways," he said quietly. "I know that being a wife and mother so young wouldn't have been ideal, not for somebody as driven as you, but it would have been best in that situation. I would have tried my hardest to make you happy-"

"Albus, stop!" She cried, unable to hear any more about the life that she would never have. "I can't! Don't you think I think about the life I could have had every damn day of my life? Don't you think I regret acting so quickly, so stubbornly? I can't listen to any more about what you would have given me! It breaks my heart over and over until I can't breathe any more, can't think, can't function!"

"Minerva, it's been a long time, surely there are other things you want now? You are no longer a child blinded by love and infatuation."

"Blinded no, but controlled...yes," she admitted quietly. "Albus...nothing matters to me, don't you understand? I don't want anything." 

His eyes closed and opened again, full of deep sadness and regret. "When we embarked on our relationship, I never thought that it would have such an impact on both of our lives. It really has left a great hole, hasn't it?"

She nodded, her eyes a bright green. "I never thought... I suppose, I was young, and all I could see was my life filled with the happiness that I felt at that moment. I couldn't see anything going wrong." 

They were silent for a moment. Minerva had never felt her heart be so heavy, it was like a jagged stone, dropping into the depths of a lake. On and on it fell, tumbling and breaking as it went. Despite wanting to see him for all these years, despite wishing that she could speak with him, if only for a moment to hear his voice, she had never realised how hard it would be, what painful memories it would stir. It was difficult being so close to him and yet feeling as if they had never been further apart. The gulf between them was wider than ever and it hurt that she could not feel near to the man that she adored. 

"What did you want to talk to me about, Albus, other than how many mistakes we have made," she asked finally. 

"Many things...but I've lost my gall, somewhat."

"You, Albus? Never!" Minerva smiled.

"Indeed I have," he looked at her thoughtfully. "I need to say some things. Once I start, I don't think I'll be able to stop." 

"Fine." Her mouth went dry, she leant forward and leant her chin in her palm. 

He stretched his legs out in front of him. "When Priscilla told me about, what had happened, I, I just couldn't believe that you would do that before you came to me. And then I realised that you had come to be and I had acted abysmally. It was all my fault. While Priscilla worked and worked and ordered me to hold this leg, press this down, all I could think about how desperate you must have been to actually go through with it all. The first time I had any time to really think was when Priscilla told me that you were going to be safe. I sat and waited for you for two days. The longest days of my life, Minerva. I wanted you wake up but I also worried that when you did, you would hate me so. While I waited, all I could think about was how selfish I was - I should never have given in. I should have left you alone until at least the end of the year. I never should have told you that I loved you. I told myself that as soon as you woke up, I was going to leave you, to give you a chance. A chance at a proper life, with a man who was your age. It hurt me, it really did, especially when I saw your face light up when I mentioned marriage. But I had to do it, for your own good, I thought. I can see now that is what a mistake." 

"It was," Minerva agreed. "My feelings haven't changed or faded."

"Your feelings?" 

She blushed. "You know what I mean."

"Of course," he muttered. He shock his head. "Of course, I can't just expect the resentment to disappear-"

"Resentment?" Minerva questioned. 

"Your feelings that haven't changed-"

"You are a fool, Albus!" Minerva cried, jumping to her feet. "I didn't mean that at all- oh!" She stamped her foot with frustration. "You are impossible! You never listen, you simply jump to your own conclusions, others be damned!" She shouted. 

"Don't lose your temper, Minerva," he said impatiently. "It never helps in any situation-"

"Temper! Temper!" Her voice grew higher, her face redder and her eyes murderous. "You haven't even seen my temper, Dumbledore! You threw me away, then you bring me back here - what do you want? Because I know what I want but it seems that either you aren't listening to me or you do not give a damn about what I want!" 

Albus sprung from his seat, his fist slamming the desk. "Of course I care about what you want! Christ, you are all that matters!" He bellowed, something that was quite uncharacteristic. "Don't you realise that everything I did, everything I said was for you! Don't you shout at me, telling me what I do and don't listen to! Kindly sit down!"

"I'm not your student any more!" She countered, her voice as loud as his. 

"Would you just sit down, witch! And listen to me?" 

"You can't order me about," she shrieked. "I will not sit down! I will not listen! I'm going, I won't stand here a moment longer-"

"Sit down!" He roared. 

She stopped and turned. His face was twisted with anger, his eyes blazing. Slowly, she turned back and sank into her seat, never breaking his gaze. 

"Thank you," he said, relieved. He hung his head for a moment and then straightened up. "I do care about your feelings, quite deeply. I do listen. but sometimes...I am hardly able to dare to think that I understand their meaning. I have to take everything you say as a negative, for fear that I break even more." 

"Then let me tell you," she said, anger still evident in her voice. "Then you can't misconstrue my meaning can you?" She took a deep breathe and closed her eyes. "I love you. I knew I loved you then and I love you just as much as I did. I've missed you, I need you. You broke my heart when you left me, all I wanted was you. You could have taken the pain away and you still could." 

"I'm still a lot older than you."

She rolled her eyes. "That is never going to change!" She cried, exasperated. "Are we live the rest of our lives miserable and alone because you are older than me? Aren't I an adult? Why must this always come between us? Unless...have I wasted my time? Do you no longer feel like that about me? I wouldn't blame you, I was a child and you are, well, you are who you are, any woman would die to be with you and there are so many, some quite beautiful-" 

"Minerva, stop-"

"And beauty, well, it's very important and you need somebody that you can be proud of, if your seen together, you wouldn't want a drab-"

"Minerva, listen-"

"And if you wanted to get married, you might want to have children, it's nice to have the option, after all-" 

"Minerva!" He shouted. "Enough. I don't want another woman. I haven't even looked at another woman since you. If I could not have you then I didn't want anybody." 

"You didn't?" She asked quietly. 

"No, I didn't," he answered simply. 

"Albus, please. Tell me that you are only saying these things because you mean to...What I mean is, is that I cannot listen if nothing is going to change." 

He nodded slowly. He came around the desk and lifted Minerva to her feet. "Minerva, my dear, I've missed you. Will you have dinner with me tonight? I mean to do it properly this time around."

 


	11. Poppy's Mind

She didn't bother to unpack her stuff. Once she had been shown to the four rooms that were her new home, she went straight to her small, light bedroom and pulled out all the clothes she owned. What was she supposed to wear on the first date in her life? Should she wear something bright and eye catching or something simple and elegant? What was she going to do with her hair? 

She was full of excitement and anticipation. She didn't really know what one said on a date, and with their history, what should she talk about? What should be brought up. She was so relieved that he was open to the idea that she didn't want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing. She sighed. She didn't think she would ever think so but it had been so much simpler when she was a student that they hadn't had to worry about anything in the past. 

A knock on the door broke her panic for a moment and pulling a robe around her thin frame she hurried to the door. 

"Only me!" Poppy smiled, holding up a bottle of wine jubilantly. "Thought we could have a girly night first night," she declared as she made her way into the sitting room. 

"Ah, but you see Poppy, I'm-"

"Your front room is nice! Bigger than mine!"

Minerva sighed. Poppy, for a change, wasn't listening. She shook her head and shut the door. "Is it?" She called back. 

"Yes," Poppy replied as she fell back on the sofa. "Comfy," she muttered. 

"I'm please," Minerva said wryly, crossing her arms as she stood in the door way. 

"Why aren't you dressed?" 

Minerva blushed. "I err - Poppy, I can't have a drink tonight, you see... I have a date."

Poppy squealed and clapped her hands. "Huraah! Finally! Oh, Minerva, I've been waiting and waiting, but I thought it would never happen!"

"Well, some of us don't want a new 'friend' every week," Minerva retorted.

"I'll ignore that," Poppy said. "Besides, I've been seeing somebody for three months now and I'm quite serious about him. But that's enough about that... Who is he? Do I know him?"

"I'd rather not-"

Poppy frowned. "Minerva, after what happened last time, I would like to know, to keep you safe."

"Last time?"

"When you woke me up, doubled over and nearly bleeding to death," Poppy replied frankly. 

Minerva looked away. "Well, that isn't going to happen again is it?" Minerva replied tartly. 

"No, but it was the secrets that lead to it," Poppy retorted. "Let me help you, Minerva."

"Oh wise one?" Minerva arched an eyebrow.

"I'm just trying to help! I never caught the boy who did that to you before but I'd like to know this man's name so that if he attempts to ruin your life I might kill him personally." 

Minerva sighed. There was no getting away from it, she would have to tell her. After all of these years she would have to explain everything. "Poppy," she said evenly. "I'll explain but please... don't get angry." 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

Poppy smiled as best she could. "Good night, Minerva, I'll come round tomorrow," she said as she left Minerva's rooms. 

When Minerva had shut the door, Poppy's face turned to thunder and she began the march to the Headmaster's office. Her red skirts rustled as she walked, hands clenched into fists, brows furrowed and eyes blazing. Never before had she been so blinded by anger! She kicked and hissed and scratched out of anger before but at this moment, all she could think about was wrapping her hands around Dumbledore's scrawny neck. 

"Headmaster!" She shouted as she crashed into his office. She pushed the door so hard that it swung back and bashed against the stone wall behind it, making an echoing noise. She didn't sit down but paced the width of the room as she waited for him. 

"Poppy," he smiled. "I didn't expect to see you-"

"Don't you smile at me, Dumbledore," Poppy seethed, pointing at him. 

He was taken aback. "What's happened?"

"Happened! My God! Aren't you innocent!" Poppy spat. "I thought you were a decent man but what are you? Using Minerva when she was barely seventeen and then knocking her up to deal with it on her own-" 

"Minerva has told you," he said quietly. 

"Minerva has told me!" She cried. "Yes, yes she has! I tell you what, I've waited for the day to find out who did that to her, who let her go to that butcher! And now I know it's you, a man I so greatly respected! And to think- I came running to you that night! I thought my friend was going to die and I came to you, you who let her go, who did that to her! She tells me you were in love but I don't believe it on your part, no man who loves a woman would ever let her-"

"I didn't let her," Albus replied calmly. "She went without my knowing. I would never, never let her go to a place like that. I would have done the honourable things, Poppy, I would have."

"The honourable thing would have been to leave her alone," Poppy retorted coldly. 

He winced a little. "I know that, I knew it at the time too but... I love her. I really do. I want to do everything properly."

Poppy shook her head. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "But let me tell you this, Albus. If you do anything to her, hurt her or anything, remember I'm not a student any more. I'll have you, I promise you that."

He nodded dumbly. "Of course." 

"Right, yes," she nodded and flew from the room. 


	12. Dates

"You look remarkable, Minerva," Albus said softly as he met her at her door. 

Minerva smiled. She'd chosen a long black gown with dropped lace sleeves with her dark hair in a shining French twist. It had taken much hair pulling and dress changing before she finally decided on her attire. She had never been so wrapped up in her image but she was glad she'd made an effort, for when she'd greeted Albus his eyes had grown wide. 

"You look quite dashing too," Minerva replied as she lifted onto her tip toes and pecked his cheek quickly. it felt nice to do that simple thing again. "Where are we going?" 

He turned red. "You see, the thing is, wherever I go everybody talks about it, where I am, what I've eaten, who I'm with- so, I'm very sorry my dear, but I've got a lovely, well I hope it's lovely, dinner, set out in my sitting room." 

"Oh, lovely!" She grinned. "I'd rather be alone with you anyway. But you should have told me, I could have met you there rather than walk all the way over here to meet me!"

"Nonsense," Albus shook his head. "Several years ago I had to inform you, most regretfully, that I could not court you as I should. But now, my dear, I can, I mean to do it wholeheartedly," he grinned broadly. 

"Albus, I really don't need-" 

"Come on then, my dear," he held out his arm and Minerva took it, squeezing it gently. 

She spent the next ten minutes embarrassed as he opened doors for her, lead her to her seat and pulled and tucked her chair in for her. She shook her head. "I'm not used to all this fuss, I'm not sure I like it." 

He smiled as he took a seat opposite. "You deserve it." 

Over the next two hours they ate and drank and spoke about everything trivial. Minerva spent the first hour with a knot of nerves in the pit of her stomach. While she knew Albus, she hadn't spoken to him in such a long time that she was worried that she simply knew an old Albus. She knew that she hadn't changed much and likely he hadn't but what if he had? What should she say to him? 'Oh, you fool,' she thought. 'You are complicating things more than you need too.'

She noticed that he didn't stop looking at her throughout the whole meal. Whether he was looking at her eyes, her hair, her hands or some part of her face, she didn't know but he never once broke his gaze. He didn't talk much either but let Minerva ramble on and on, about work, about Ellen and Poppy, about what had happened after Hogwarts. He listened intently, nodded and 'hmmm'-ing but he didn't say anything to do with himself, it was if he enjoyed just watching and listening to her. 

After desert, when Minerva had said everything that could be said, she stopped and cocked her head. "You are allowed to talk, you know, Albus."

He laughed. "I like sitting listening to you," he said. "I've heard enough of my own voice during this life time and not nearly enough of yours."

She blushed. She had forgotten that he complimented her all of the time and it was strange. Before she had simply got used to it but she hadn't stayed used to it, it seemed. "You won't be saying that in a few years time, I'm sure."

"Why?" 

"Oh, just, just," she stammered. "Well, you might just grow tired of it in a few years. I mean, if we, if you-"

He stretched his arm out across the table and placed his warm hand on her own. "I'll be glad if I'm given the chance to grow tired of your dear voice." 

"That's... reassuring," she said. "Because I do hope there will be many years," she added quietly. 

"Oh, there will be," he reassured her with a smile. 

She sighed, suddenly content. She had dreamed about that smile, it had played over and over in her mind but it was not as wonderful in her mind as it was in real life. What made it better was that she was the reason that he was smiling, that was worth everything in the world to her, just as being the cause of any pain would hurt her. 

"You really do look lovely," he said again. 

Minerva shrugged. "This thing? Poppy made me by this when she dragged me to come ball...oh, yes, her boyfriend at the time was having a Christmas dance. I had a perfectly suitable green dress to wear but of course, Poppy turned her nose up at it. She dragged me around that damn alley for hours before I settled on this. I don't usually wear this sort of thing, you see, I like plain clothes, much more practical but Poppy wouldn't have it. Need less to say, she wasn't with the boy much longer than a couple of months." 

"She has a lot of boyfriends?" 

"Yes. She's a very headstrong girl, very colourful, she wants somebody who can match her, or tame her, I suspect," Minerva replied. "She's with somebody now though, she said she's been with him for three or four months, that's a long time for her. I hope she does find somebody though, I want to see her happy, like Ellen is, I love her just as much as Ellen. They are all the family I have."

"So you are fully estranged from your mother now?"

"My mother died," Minerva answered quietly, more out of a strange respect for the dead than sadness. 

"Oh, my dear, I am sorry," Albus said quickly. "I didn't know, I wouldn't of-"

Minerva waved her hand. "Don't worry. There was no love lost between us. She died when I was eighteen, not much longer after Daddy really. She was always sickly and without Daddy to wait on her she just gave up and wasted away. I do think of her sometimes, mainly out of regret that I didn't have a mother like the mother's that most are lucky to have. I think of Dad mostly. He still creeps into my mind a lot," she sighed. She wasn't about to go into how much she missed her father, for it still stung to talk about him. "So, Ellen and Poppy are all the family I have, my two sisters...oh and Ellen's sons, of course." 

She grabbed his hand. "So you are quite alone as well?"

"Not any more, at least, I hope not," he answered. "My dear, I do so want to make you happy."

"You do, you will."

"But you seem so withdrawn whenever I mention us, or how you make me feel...what is it?"

She sighed. He could still read her like a book. She had hoped she had hidden her doubts rather well for she didn't want to bring them up at their first dinner. She didn't want to complicate a most simple thing but he knew, he always knew. "Albus...I just-I can't give you a life."

"I think you can."

"Maybe, now but not later," she whispered. "If I were to become your wife one day, that wouldn't be fair on you. I couldn't give you a family, children, grandchildren. I couldn't-"

"You need to stop with this," Albus interrupted. "Children are not the be all and end all. I'd rather have you then a dozen children, Minerva. I am to blame just as much as you are and so we must both learn to live with it. I had never pictured having children anyway, I would have welcomed them if they appeared but I do not have to have them." 

"You are too good for me," she began to cry. She had ruined her own life and yet he was willing to take some of the pain. It was all too much. She had never dreamed that she would meet him again, let alone be so near him and now he was being so kind to her. He was trying to ease her self inflicted pain. She couldn't have hoped for more and it was a little overwhelming. 

"It is late my dear," Albus rose. "I'll walk you back, if you will permit me." 

She nodded, wiping her eyes as she stood.

Albus closed his eyes. She had no idea that she was so graceful, so beautiful and he had to remind himself that she wasn't his. If it had been up to him, he would have kissed her by now, passionately and carried her to his bed. It had been six long years of waiting for her, of dreaming about her and he was impressed with himself that he hadn't just taken her as soon as she had stepped foot into his front room. He had been shocked when he'd seen her in a dress that revealed the marble skin of her shoulders. Never before had he seen her reveal so much flesh and he had been forced to think of boring, trivial things to control himself. 

She had grown up into a mesmerising woman. Her eyes were full of life and sparkle, her hair thinner, tamer and sleek. She walked with a self assurance, her body slender and curved. She was wonderful, breath taking and Albus couldn't believe, after everything that had happened, that he could be hers again and she could be his. 

"Are you ready?" She asked, breaking his trail of thought. 

"Of course," he held out an arm and they walked together in content silence to her door. 

They stopped. Minerva desperately wanted to ask him in for a while, for she wasn't ready to say goodbye yet, to let go of him but she wasn't sure how to ask. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. 

Albus watched her roll her fluorescent eyes. That was enough, that wall all he could take. He had been most restrained all night but those eyes-

His mouth was on hers within seconds and she hardly had time to react as he pushed her against the wall. She was shocked. He'd been the gentleman all night and now he was on her. She sighed with relief into his mouth. She realised that she had waited all night for this moment, in fact, she had waited six long years for this moment. She had dreamed about kissing him almost every night but it never felt as good as this, the real thing. 

She opened her mouth for him, which he hungrily explored without any delay, pressing her harder against the wall. One hand was at her waist, the other tangled in her hair. The hand at her waist moved upwards slowly and when it reached her breast, she thought she might die. Her stomach danced with excitement as his hand squeezed gently. She moaned lowly into his mouth and he pulled away, smiling a little. His lips fell onto her exposed, elegant neck to assault that gently with light kisses and nips as he made his way down to her chest. 

He stopped suddenly, straightening up. His hand came away and dropped to his side. 

"What did I do?" Minerva asked quietly, pulling a sleeve into place and smoothing her skirt. 

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said. 

"Then why did you stop?" 

"Because I was losing control," he said simply. "If I hadn't of found some I would have taken you against the wall, not caring who could have walked past." 

She arched a brow. "You should of," she challenged. 

His eyes grew wide in surprise. "Why, Minerva!" He gasped. "You were never so...brazen before."

She shrugged, smiling innocently. "I still like to surprise you."

"Well, you have, my dear, you most certainly have," he chuckled. 

She moved closer to him, so close that she found her head under his chin before she rested it on his shoulder. "I do wish you hadn't of stopped though, I was rather enjoying myself," she said quietly. 

He kissed the top of her head. "So was I," he sighed. "But I don't mean to let everything happen so quickly. It's been years, Minerva, why end it with a quick tryst against the wall?"

"Come with me then," she said, grabbing his hand and beginning to lead him towards her door, which she opened with a whispered spell. 

"No, Minerva," he smiled. "Not tonight, it's late." 

"What are you? An old man that needs to be tucked up in bed with his bed socks on by ten o'clock?" She remarked. 

"Not ten o'clock..." he teased. 

She hit him lightly on the chest. "For God sake, Albus, are you coming in or not, it's getting cold out here?"

He smiled at her bluntness. He loved that about her. "How can I decline such a heartfelt invitation?" He said sarcastically. 

 She rolled her eyes. 

"Don't do that," he said thickly. "That's what got us into trouble a moment ago." 

She laughed. "Rolling my eyes! Is that all it takes? You'll have to sort that out, I'm afraid, because I roll my eyes quite a lot, or so I'm told," she added dryly. 

"You do, you have done since I've known you. I remember the first time I taught you, a little eleven year old, bright faced girl and I told you something that you clearly already knew and oh! Those eyes rolled straight back, it was all I could do not to smile!" He chuckled. 

"Well, when your patience is as thin a mine, all one can do is eye roll," she remarked. "Now, stop changing the subject, I'll only ask one more time, are you coming in?"

"Ask again," he said mischievously. 

Her eyes rolled as an exasperated sigh left her lips. "Good night," she said quickly, rushing to the door. 

He caught her arm. "Oh, come now, my dear, you needn't be so serious all of the time-" 

"And you needn't be so childish," she retorted.

"Perhaps," he said thoughtfully and then he grinned. "Really, Minerva, are you going to keep me waiting on your doorstep in the cold for all this time? It's the height of rudeness and you keep procrastinating-" 

She hit him, quite hard on the arm. "You are impossible!" She cried. 

 

 

 


	13. Lessons

Minerva nervously sat behind her desk, watching as the children took their seats. They were quiet enough, no doubt sussing out what their new teacher was like before they decided how to act. Despite her nervousness, she made sure that her face was set sternly, her mouth set in a straight line and her eyes glaring. When she had decided that the class was full, despite two empty seats as the back, she stood, bearing all of her height and moved from her desk to stand at the front of the class. 

"Has nobody read the board?" She asked. "Or can you not read? The board clearly says open your books to page twelve." 

Some brows raised, some faces turned pink as the students quickly opened their books. She smiled inwardly - she might be young but she clearly had had some sort of impact on the children. 

"Now, if you read the first-" she was interrupted as two boys clambered into the room, laughing at somebody behind them who waltzed past the door. 

Heads turned to look at them and back to Minerva. This was it. This was her test, she was about to set her reputation. 

She glided down the middle of the desk, an eyebrow raised as she stopped at the desk where the boys lounged, still grinning. One looked at her expectantly, the other defiant. "Nice of you to join us," she said dryly. 

One boy, a dark haired boy with a smug, round face shrugged. "We were held up," he said, trying to hide a smile. 

The other boy laughed behind his hand. 

"It seems we have two comics in my lesson," Minerva said. She shot them a bitter smile. "Comics are not my cup of tea...get out." 

They both looked at her incredulous. 

"I'm sorry, did I not say it clearly? Or is your humour rendering you deaf, dumb and blind?" She hissed. "Get out."

"You can't just send us out!" The dark haired boy cried. "We've only just got here!"

"Precisely, my lesson started ten minutes ago," she tapped her foot impatiently. "I do not see you boys moving!" 

They groaned, grew bright red with embarrassment and gathered their books. They shuffled away quickly and Minerva flicked her wand so that the door slammed behind them. She turned, cleared her throat and said clearly, "You should have all finished that chapter by now!"

********************************************************************************************************

Albus was taking his regular, morning walk around the school. He always did once the first lessons of the day started. The corridors were mostly empty and he could walk without being called over for help, or listening to the rants of a mad teacher about a misbehaving student. All of that could wait until the afternoon, when he had woken up completely. 

He stopped as he heard a scuffle of feet coming around the corner. He sighed. He'd been caught. He thought about turning around quickly and hiding but just as he began to turn he saw that the scuffling belonged to two boys, two boys who had been the thorn in his side for three years. 

"Mr Weasley, Mr Lee!" He called. 

The two boys stopped. Weasley paled but Lee stood defiant. 

"Where are you boys going?" He asked brightly. 

Weasley stammered but Lee said clearly, without pause. "Walking to our lesson, sir," he said as sweetly as he could. "We are a bit late, I know but we bumped into some first years on the way and they were lost. So we walked them to their classroom and now we are on the way to ours." 

"Ah, I see," Albus nodded. "And what lesson are you heading for?"

"Transfiguration." 

"Perfect," he smiled. "I'll come with you, we can see how our new Professor is getting on." 

Weasley went red. 

"Oh, there's no need, Sir," Lee said quickly. 

"No, it's no bother, come on then gentleman," he began to lead the way, taking long strides. He could hear them clamber behind him in at attempt to get up. He smiled. 

When he opened the door to Minerva's lesson, she looked up from her desk expectantly. She smiled when she sure him. 

"Sorry to disturb but I have escorted two latecomers," Albus said. He couldn't help but think that she looked beautiful. "They were helping a new student who was lost, come on then boys," he stood out of the way as the two boys, heads hanging shuffled into the classroom. 

Minerva's mouth pursed, in a lovely way Albus thought. He knew that she was trying very hard to curb an exploding temper. He wondered what he had done wrong. 

"You are mistaken, Headmaster," she seethed as she came towards them. "I have only just sent these boys from my class." 

"Ah," Albus said as he turned the boys. Weasley looked as if he might die. "That is not what I was told."

"We had only just got here before she sent us out!" Lee protested. 

"They were late and they disturbed my lesson with their antics," Minerva said. 

He nodded slowly. "My office, perhaps, boys?" 

 

********************************************************************************************************

Minerva stacked the books at the end of her desk and sank back in her chair. The first day was over. It had gone well. She smiled. 

Now she was sat in her office, with the dusk sunlight pouring through the four long windows that lined the wall. It was strange, it was her office and yet it would always belong to Albus. It was here that they had kissed, the kiss that would determine their fate. It was in this office, as Albus went over her lengths and lengths of essays, that she had fallen in love with him. It was filled with her things now but it still felt like Albus. It always would. 

"How was your first day?" Poppy said cheerily, popping her head around the door, making Minerva, who had been sat with her eyes closed, jump. 

"Oh, damn you!" Minerva cried lightly. "I jumped out of my own skin!"

Poppy laughed as came and perched on the chair opposite. "Isn't it strange, this being yours now? I remember many a time being scolded in here when Dumbledore caught me in a compromising position with my latest beau," she sighed. "And now it's yours. It's like when I took Mum's office, I was scared to touch anything in case she went scatty at me!"

Minerva smiled. "Well, we're all grown up now."

"You may be, but me?" She shrugged. "Who knows?"

Laughing, Minerva said, "I stand corrected."

"Here we are again though, all we need is Ellen and we could be students again."

"No thank you," Minerva said quickly. "I'll never wish to go back there again!"

Poppy smiled as she began fiddling with the edge of a book. "I'm glad to say that my office is mostly book free, I'm sorry to say that soon I won't be able to find you because you'll be lost in this office filled with all the books in the world!"

She narrowed her eyes. "How witty."

"I try," Poppy grinned. She stood up.

"You're going already?"

"I have to, I've got a date."

"That makes a change."

Poppy stuck her tongue out. "Sarcasm is not becoming, Minerva and anyway, it's with the same man. I think...I think I love him."

Minerva's eyes grew wide. Poppy may have had many beaus but never before had she said that she loved any of them. "Really?"

Poppy nodded. "Really."

"Who is he?"

"I can't tell you, especially not now I know about you and Albus."

"What does that mean? What has Albus got to do with any of it-"

As if he'd heard his name, Albus appeared in the doorway. "Ah, Poppy, I didn't realise, I'll come back later."

"No need," Poppy said stiffly. "I'm going." She leant over the table and kissed Minerva quickly on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Yes," Minerva said, eyeing her suspiciously. "Have a nice time tonight!"

"I will!" Poppy sang as she left, hardly looking at Albus. 

Minerva sighed. "She'll come round, she's very...protective, after everything." 

"I don't blame her." 

She smiled brightly at him and rushed to his arms. "Oh, it's been a long day without you." 

He kissed her dark hair. "It has indeed." He pulled her closer. "Weasley and Lee are in detention with Filch for two weeks." 

"That's a bit much, don't you-" 

"No. Not only did they misbehave but they lied. I do feel sorry for Weasley though, he's only a whipping boy." 

"The boy should get some gumption then," Minerva said quickly. 

"Now you are the one being harsh, my dear," he laughed. 

"I'm going to get changed before our dinner," Minerva pulled away from him. 

"into that nice dress again?" 

"It's a first date dress only," she teased. "You'll have to put up with my drab robes forever more I'm afraid." 

"Nothing you wear could ever look drab." 

"So many compliments!" Minerva said lightly. "You are well rehearsed." She stood on her toes and kissed him lightly. "I'm off, see you in an hour." 

"I'll be outside your door not a minute late," he said cordially. 

"I'll leave on the latch, if you feel compelled to come in," she winked and hurried away before he could answer. 

Since their kiss on the night of their first dinner, Albus had hardly been near her. Despite asking several times, he hadn't come in with her and had left her at her front door. They had eaten together twice since then, played chess four or five evenings and all he had done was embrace her and peck the top of her head. It was frustrating. She wanted to be near him again, to not fight the urge to suddenly kiss him for fear he might push her away. She wasn't sure what she was going to do about it for, despite her best efforts, he always changed the subject whenever she tried to breach it- just as he had done before. 

 Back in her bedroom Minerva quickly wriggled out of her black teaching robes and pulled out the charmed pins from her hair. She sat at her dressing her table and combed her hair through before piling it back on her head and pushing the pins back in firmly. As much as Albus liked her to have her hair down, she couldn't put up with it. It irritated her that it kept falling in front of her face and it made her too hot. She wasn't about to make herself uncomfortable just to look a pretty picture. 

She chose an emerald green dress, a plain garment with a square neckline. On top she pulled on a plain, black robe that pulled her in nicely at the waist. It wasn't a hardship to try to give herself a little shape. She looked around at the pile of clothes on the floor and the unmade bed. She thought about quickly tidying it but decided that she was too eager to delay seeing Albus any longer and it would only take a minute when she got back later. 

Shutting the door as she left, she turned and gasped when she saw Albus standing in her living room. 

He shrugged. "You left it on the latch, like you said." 

"I never thought- how long have you been in here? I didn't hear you come in," she exclaimed. 

"A few minutes." 

"I see, are you ready to go?" 

He didn't answer but marched to her, his face intent on something. When he caught her roughly by the waist and pulled her to him, her eyes grew wide. When he began a delightful assault on her neck, trailing the length of it with his soft mouth, her eyes grew wider still. 

"This makes a change," she said, as dully as if she were talking about the weather, but with a smile on her lips. 

"Yes," he growled but he didn't stop. 

She gasped as his hand reached up and yanked her dress away from her shoulder. Deciding that it didn't come down far enough, he murmured something and in an instant the sleeves were gone. What he hadn't calculated however was that the sleeves were what held it up and when it began to fall he stopped. 

"Sorry, I didn't think that one through," he said. 

Minerva pulled the front of the dress up and held it there. "No matter, it wasn't my best," she paused for a minute. "You needn't have stopped." 

"I hadn't intended to," Albus admitted. "But I didn't know if I should let you, well, cover yourself up, it might not have been-"

She laughed. "I thought it was quite convenient," she replied. "But I can see I was wrong, I'll go and get changed." When he didn't follow, she bent her head around the corner. "There's no point just standing there is there? You are allowed to sit on the bed, unless your frightened I might take advantage?" She cocked a thin, dark eyebrow. 

"Very well," he muttered, his head down. When he entered her room, his face was one of shock. He hadn't expected to see an unmade bed and clothes strewn across the floor. He had always imagined that Minerva would live in a state of tidiness, without a thing out of place. 

She went turned red. "I forgot about this," she said quietly as she skirted around the bed and began fluffing the pillows. "I usually do it in the morning but I-" she choked on her words for a minute. "I-I, I'm not usually this messy-"

Albus laughed. "Minerva, it's fine. It's hardly a mess is it? You should see my room-"

"I have," Minerva pointed out. "I don't know how you live in such a clutter!"

"You didn't mention it before!"

"I was hardly in the place to," Minerva retorted. "I was a student, I wasn't about to complain was I?" 

"I'm surprised that you didn't," Albus said wryly. 

"Could you get up a minute?" Minerva barked. "You've sat and watched me try to yank this sheet from under you and you haven't even attempted to move!"

Albus laughed as he stood. He didn't know why men moaned about their nagging wives, when Minerva nagged her mouth quivered slightly and she looked lovely. He watched her pull the sheet sharply, tuck it in neatly and smooth it out. "It would have been quicker to use the charm," he said. 

Minerva shook her head. "I find that beds look so much better when handmade made, it doesn't take a minute." 

"I thought the whole point of being magic was to make ones life more convenient," Albus said.

"That doesn't mean that we should be lazy."

"No one would ever accuse you of being lazy," he said quickly. He watched as she neatly turned the top edge of the sheet down and stood back to admire her work. She looked lovely, especially because she wasn't aware that she still hadn't got changed. All that she had on was a long, satin slip that was quite becoming as it clung to the curves of her long body. He laughed lightly as he said, "Perhaps you should get dressed now, my dear?"

"Oh!" She looked down, turning red. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I was enjoying the view," he grinned.

"If I had my wand handy I'd cause you great pain!" She declared.

"It's a great shame that one's thin, rather revealing slip hasn't got a handy pocket for one's wand."

"You-" Her temper rose to her throat and she knew that her face would be twisted with it.

Quite suddenly, she launched at him and Albus didn't have a chance to defend himself. She landed on him and they bundled back onto the freshly made bed, as Minerva began to hit him all over. He looked up at her laughing but saw that her mouth was still pursed in that lovely, angry fashion and her eyes were narrowed. He grabbed her wrists and held them, giving her a triumphant smile. Instead, she began to kick him, crying out in frustration when he wordless trapped her in a gentle binding spell.

"Let me go!" She hissed. "You'll regret it if you don't!"

"Not until you've calmed down," he said teasingly. "I do not think attacking the headmaster is a wise thing to do is it?"

"It is when he has been a complete cad," she retorted.

"I can't help it that you forgot yourself," he said lightly.

"Just let me go, Albus," she sighed. "Then I can get dressed."

"Then, regretfully, I cannot let you go," he said quietly, not quite looking at her. "For it would be a shame if you got dressed again."

Minerva's brows lifted at least two inches. "If you let me go," she murmured. "I promise not to get dressed," she blushed.

"Then you leave me no choice," he said and with that she was free. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her gently, laying her down so that her head lay on the pillow, her glorious dark hair, having escaped the pins, spread across the white pillow case. "You really shouldn't have bothered making the bed, I'm afraid I'm about to mess it up again." 

"That's fine," she breathed. "You can make it again in the morning - by hand."

 


	14. Aberforth's Warning

The next four months rolled by in a comfortable, lulling bliss. Minerva spent most of her time teaching or in bed with Albus. During their weekends alone together, they made the bedroom into their own little world - they ate, read, conversed, teased and made love in there, not leaving for two whole days. Minerva had never been happier, never more content and she realised that this is what she had always wanted, even from childhood. Albus loved her in a way that made it easy for her to accept it, to trust it and she understood his love better than she had when she had been a student. Then, she had been thrown into a whirlwind, taking this love for granted in her own childish way. Now, she understood it's depth, it's resilience and it's fragility. It was fragile because of how precious it was, how important it was too her and how she relied on it and she found that when one felt like so about something, it naturally became fragile out of fear of breaking it. She did not question how he felt about her, in fact, she took it in her stride. She of course wondered why such a brilliant, wonderful, clever man would want to give his heart to a tempestuous, often stern and quite plain woman like her but he had given it to her and she was not going to ever let it go. 

It was the beginning of May when Poppy came crashing through into Minerva's living room, tears in her eyes but a broad, bright smile across her dear face. So happy was she, so giddy, that she didn't notice Albus sat in his usual armchair by the window, for when she was in Albus's company she was only polite, if that sometimes. "I'm engaged!" She cried. 

Both Minerva and Albus were surprised. Minerva however, cried out in delight while Albus raised his brows. She shot him a foreboding glance. She knew what he was thinking, he had caught her with enough beaus during her school days to be surprised that she was actually going to settle down with anyone. 

"That's wonderful," Minerva cried as she rushed to her. "Can you tell me who it is now?" 

Poppy blushed. "You see, I've left it so long that now I cannot find the right words..."

Albus took this as his cue to leave. "I'll leave you two alone, I think," he said.

Poppy shook her head. "Perhaps you should stay, Albus." 

Now it was Minerva's turn to raised her brows with shock. Poppy didn't like Albus and while she was polite enough, Minerva knew that Poppy didn't like the fact that Minerva loved Albus. She could hardly spend an hour in a staff meeting with him, let alone sit with him in Minerva's small sitting room. Usually when Poppy visited, Albus quickly left and Poppy would nod as if she expected it. 

"Don't pull that face," Poppy said. "It's about time one of the men I consort with plans to make a respectable woman of me!"

"The face isn't for your engagement but rather your comment about Albus staying," Minerva retorted. 

"Well you see... may I bring my beau in?" 

"You mean he's been outside all of this time? That's the height of rudeness," Minerva reprimanded. "Go and get him - and apologise."

"Yes, Mother," Poppy grinned as she disappeared around the corner. 

She hurried back in and behind her stood a man who was so familiar to Minerva that she gasped. He was tall, with the same shaped face as Albus, the same eyes, the same mouth - only their noise differed. She shot around to Albus, who looked pale. "You didn't tell me you had a brother," she said lowly, her temper rising. 

"Don't surprise me, he don't tell anyone anything of use," the man snorted. "I'm Aberforth, been estranged from Albus for a good two decades I reckon." 

"I see," Minerva said tightly. She felt like an utter fool, everybody had known who he was and that he existed except her. "How did you two meet?" Her voice was bordering on shrill but she couldn't control it. 

"He owns the Head in Hogsmeade," Poppy said quietly. 

"Excuse me?" Minerva spat. She turned to Albus, her eyes flashing with rage, her brow furrowed and her face contorted. "You mean to tell me that you've had a brother not ten minutes away and you've never mentioned him?"

"I haven't spoken-"

"Spoken be damned!" She shouted. "You know everything about me, everything, Dumbledore!"

"Perhaps we should go," Poppy whispered as she held onto Aberforth's arm. 

"Sit down," Minerva hissed. "You will not be going... he will be," she pointed at Albus. 

He rose to his feet. "Now, Minerva-"

"Don't you dare," she said darkly. "I'm now going to celebrate with my friend and your new found brother and you are going to leave." She arched her brow at him, daring him to say something. 

He shook his head. "Sometimes, Minerva, you are impossible," he said angrily before he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Minerva sighed and turned to the couple. With a tight smile, she asked, "Tea?"

Poppy laughed. "I've never known Aberforth to drink a cup of tea."

"Oh, what do you drink?" 

"Anything alcoholic," he grinned. 

"Yes, I suppose tea isn't really what one drinks during a celebration," she said lightly. She sat in her high backed armchair and with an elegant flick of her wand summoned a bottle of whiskey, which began pouring into three ornate tumblers. "Muggle whiskey, I'm afraid, I can't abide fire whiskey." She had thrown hers back before the other two had wrapped their hands around the glasses. She ignored Poppy's face and smiled at Aberforth. 

"I'm so glad that Poppy has finally found somebody," she said. 

Aberforth nodded. "Well it's about time I found somebody, look at me, I've been waiting long enough!" He laughed. 

"Are you older, or younger than Albus?" 

"Younger, I think it's eight or nine years but I've forgotten how old he is," he replied. 

Minerva stopped. She wasn't completely sure either. She blushed and poured another drink quickly. She noticed that Poppy, who was still giving her a judgemental gaze, hadn't touched hers. "I thought you'd be drinking up, you being the bride and all." 

Poppy nodded but paled. Her eyes filled up with tears. "Minerva-" 

"What's the matter?" Minerva interrupted. "You can change your mind!" She paid no attention to the man opposite her. 

Poppy shook her head. She reached over and grabbed her hands. "I know, I know it's always been us. Ellen is the one with the marriage and the children and we've had each other. I'm so sorry, Minerva, I'm frightened to death and the last thing I want to do is hurt you," she paused, swallowing hard. "I'm going to have a baby." 

Minerva immediately smiled as best she could. 'I'm going to have a baby.' Those were the very words that she had said to Albus. In the same apologetic tone. She breathed deeply, the smile still pulled across her face. It was the same feeling as when Ellen had told her about her two pregnancies- her heart felt as if it was being wrung out, twisted and pulled until it ran dry. She came over hot and cold, her eyes fighting tears. Only, it seemed to hurt more with Poppy. She had expected Ellen to marry and have dozens of children but not Poppy. She had always thought Poppy would be as she was, single, fun loving and vibrant. But she was going to have a baby, as every woman did- except Minerva, of course. 

And then it hit her. Poppy was going to have a Dumbledore baby. It was as if Poppy was living the life that Minerva dreamed. Minerva would never present Albus with a Dumbledore baby, while Poppy could continue the line, on and on. Poppy was doing everything a woman should do while Minerva couldn't. 

She suddenly realised that two pairs of eyes were staring at her. "Oh, goodness, how wonderful!" she said, with all the sincerity she could muster. She was happy for Poppy, she wanted her friend to be happy always but it was hard to fight the pain. "Now, I think I have a bottle of something..." she hurried to the small kitchen. 

She leaned her hands on the edge of the counter and bent her head, breathing deeply. The room began to spin as she tried to gain control of herself. Tears of rage came, rage at herself for being so stupid not even a decade ago. She would have claimed injustice but Minerva had been wise enough to know what could happen and she had taken the chance anyway. 

"Need a hand?" 

She started at the gruff voice and turned to Aberforth. "Oh, no, thank you," she said too loud. 

He moved towards her, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Poppy told me what happened to you," he said quietly. "I have to admit, I was terrified to come here and tell you." 

Minerva felt a rush of guilt flood through her and she patted his arm gently. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I am happy for you and for Poppy. I'll always be happy for her. Don't you worry about me, I'm just being silly."

He shook his head. "I don't think that you are," he said. "I know women set such a store by babies- after what Albus did, I don't blame you."

"Albus didn't do anything," she said quickly. 

"Seems to me he did. Didn't do anything to help you did he? Otherwise you wouldn't have turned to other methods," he sighed. "I know my brother. In fact, I know him so well that I don't talk to him. He's better off alone. He'll hurt you, I hate to say it, but he will. I suppose he already has with everything but he's not finished. Albus couldn't be faithful if his life depended on it."

"I'm sorry?"

"He's loved before. He was engaged to a girl once, a good girl, very kind. She wasn't for him, I could tell, not like you are. You are made to match but that doesn't mean he won't do the same thing. He's a ladies man, his infamy has seen to that."

"What are you saying to me?" She asked rather defensively. 

"To be careful, he's not done dishing out the hurt." 

"I do not think that this is appropriate. Albus wouldn't do that-"

"Without being rude," Aberforth interjected. "But you didn't even know I existed until a few moments ago, did you? I'm just telling you, warning you, to watch your back. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

"Well I do."

"That's your misfortune," he said quietly, before going back to the sitting room with Poppy. 

**********************************************************************************************************

When Poppy and Aberforth left a few hours later, Minerva sagged into her seat as soon as she closed the door. She was drained, having to force a smile and laugh when her heart was breaking. She hadn't time or energy to think about what Aberforth had said. All she could think about was babies - and her inability to have one. 

She began to cry when she thought about what she had been robbed of. She could never be as happy as Poppy was, telling everyone the news, marvelling in the future. She could have screamed with the unfairness of it all and then she felt the stabbing of self hatred in her gut. It was worse because she had nobody to blame, She couldn't throw her anger and hurt at anyone, she couldn't scream at anyone for denying her something that she longed for. It was all her fault. She had done this. She had ruined her body and rendered herself barren. She could only tear into herself, over and over until there was nothing left. Until she was left a mess on the floor. 

"They've gone then?" Albus said tightly from behind her. 

She looked up at him with glassy eyes and found an anger in his face that she wasn't used to. She remembered their argument, an argument that seemed so long ago. She shook her head and said weakly, "Just leave me alone, Albus." 

"I think I deserve an apology."

She jumped to her feet, the hurt and pain and torture driving her. "I owe you nothing, man! I told you to leave me alone, now get out!" Her voice was hoarse, her throat sore from her sobbing. When he didn't move she continued to scream at him, "Get out, get out!" Until she was pounding his chest with her tight fists. "Are you deaf? Get out for God sake, get out of my sight!" 

He grabbed her wrists and held them tightly, his knuckles white at the effort. "What are you doing? Have you gone mad?" He roared. 

"How dare you?" she shrieked. "Leave me alone! Let go of me!" She tried to wrench free but his grip is too strong. "You're hurting me!" 

Albus laughed bitterly. "Don't tell me I'm hurting the great Minerva Mcgonagall! Why don't you tear me off, where is your wand when you need it?" 

She bit him, hard on the hand forcing him to let go. "I think you'll find," she said coldly. "That I do not need my wand against the likes of you!" 

"The likes of me?" He questioned, rubbing his hand. "And when did I turn into such a villain? I can assure you that there are men out there who wouldn't be so restrained as me when they are bitten!" 

"Oh, how noble of you," she bowed mockingly. "Better a fist or two and know everything, then live a life of secrets!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes! Yes it is!" 

"Then I suggest you go and seek what you desire," he bellowed before he turned on his heels and stormed out. 

She hurled a heavy book at him but the door closed before it could hit him and it banged on the door and landed with a dull thud. 

How dare he just walk out! How dare he say his piece and then storm away! The rage was pulsing around her, filling her bones, clouding her vision! She wanted a fight, she wanted a good, damned argument. She wanted to scream and punch and kick and hex until the anger drained away. With out another thought, she followed him, her heels clicking on the stone floors as she marched through the corridors. He wasn't going to get away with this. 

She banged on his door and when he didn't open it, she began kicking it. 

"Are you demolishing the school now?" Albus asked sarcastically as he swung the door open. 

He'd managed to throw back a drink in the time it took her to get there, she could smell it. 

"Are you going to let me in?" She barked. 

"Are you going to resort to violent again?" 

"Yes." 

He stood aside and let her march past him. "I would offer you a drink," he said. "But it seems that you have had enough," he arched a brow. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you like me to behave better? Am I not being the little woman who fetches and carries and cooks and cleans and doesn't dare have a drop of something, because that would be oh so inappropriate!" She scoffed. "But then again, I could never be the little woman could I? My barren state has rendered me useless at that occupation!" 

"Is this what this," he waved his hand at her. "Is all about? Oh, Minerva, why is it always this? I can't suffer this every time you get a little upset!" 

"Poppy is going to have a baby," she said weakly. having said it out loud to somebody deflated her and she sagged into the nearest seat. She felt the tears sting her already sore cheeks. 

Albus sighed. "I see," he said softly. 

"She- oh it's worse than that!" Minerva cried. "She's going to have a Dumbledore baby!" That broke her and she felt against the cushions, her body racked with dry sobs. 

He went to her, her desperate state washing away anything else he had felt before. He gathered her in her arms, quite roughly as she tried to fight back. He held her tightly. 

"I'm never going to have one, Poppy will carry on your name and I won't! I can't- I just want a baby, it's normal, it's nature. I can conjure food, transform into a damn cat and yet I can't do what every woman, magical or muggle and that is have a baby!" Her voice was filled with raw pain. "I would give up everything, just to have your child." 

"Everything?" He whispered. 

She turned slowly in his arms and cupped his cheek with her soft, warm hand. "Not everything," she said softly, her damp eyes latched with his. "Never you, you are what keeps me going." 

He smiled. "My dear, I would do anything to give you what you want. I wish-"

"I know, I know," she sighed. "Oh well, we must live with what we are given." She stood suddenly and smoothed down her dress. "I'm fine, really, I'm sorry for my...outburst." 

"I feel I may have to wear padding around you," Albus chuckled, rubbing his chest that she had pumped with her fists and examining her bite mark. "I need not worry about you ever being in danger, you'll fight whatever is attacking you." 

"I'm sorry, I was just so overwhelmed," she croaked. "I, there is no excuse-"

"Perhaps it was because you are slightly intoxicated?" He smirked. 

"Why, Albus, I am not-"

"Ah, but you are my dear," he said. "I can tell, I'm a little disappointed that I am not enjoying the benefits though." 

"The benefits?" 

"I've always heard that drunken women are positively wanton," he grinned, a flash in his merry blue eyes. 

Her jaw dropped. "I'm not that kind of woman."

He came to her and picked her up. "Shame, because I am that kind of man," he kissed her hard on the mouth. 

She had wanted to ask him about what Aberforth had said but she found herself being carried through to Albus's bedroom and thrown on the bed. 

It would have to wait.

 


	15. War

By the time Poppy's son was born, Ellen was well advanced into a third pregnancy. Minerva had gained another god child and she had to admit that Poppy's son was lovely. William Dumbledore was a big, bonny child with well rounded limbs and the famous Dumbledore eyes. Minerva's heart ached a little every time she held the boy, for she couldn't help but think that her own child would look much like him for he resembled his father and uncle and looked nothing like a Pomfrey. 

While Poppy celebrated her marriage and baby and Ellen prepared for a third child, Minerva found that she spent a lot of her free time alone. Albus had never been so busy and some nights he came to her rooms at silly hours of the morning, or, more often than not, didn't turn up at all. The muggle war in Europe, which Minerva had believed the magical world to be detached from, was creeping up on them. That was what Albus was dealing with, she knew, but he was very secretive, not telling her much, no doubt to protect her. 

He finally found time for her one Saturday lunch time, when he arrived at her rooms looking grey and tired. He looked thinner, his broad shoulders sagged and she worried. She wanted to fuss over him but had the feeling that it wouldn't be well received. 

"Have you been eating properly?" She asked, unable to resist the question. She glided to him and taking his arm, lead him to the dining chair. 

"Minerva, I haven't had time," he said quietly. 

"Well, you have time now," she said, leaning over him and filling a plate with rolls, salad and cheese. "Here, you can have seconds when you're done."

"Minerva," he said. "You're fussing." 

She sighed. She was trying not to but she was failing, miserably. "I know, I'm sorry, I just, well I have to," she kissed the top of his head before she took her seat opposite. She picked at her own food, watching Albus to make sure that he ate every mouthful. 

"I suppose it's nice to have somebody to worry," was all he said and then they sat in silence. 

They didn't usually sit so quietly and it made Minerva feel on edge. She was worried about him, maybe his silence meant that he was ill, or tired, or both. She wished that he would just stop working and give himself a rest but she knew that would never happen. 

"Albus, you've hardly said a word," she said gently. "Is there something wrong."

He sighed, shook his head and lounged back in his seat. "I have to go away, Minerva."

"Away!" She cried in disbelief. "When? Where?"

"To the war," he replied simply. 

"Why?" Her heart was banging against her chest. Why would he leave her? By the tone of his voice she could tell that wherever he was going wasn't safe. She couldn't have him going somewhere where his safety was tested, he needed to stay with her, so that she knew he was alright, that he was just down the corridor and up a flight of spiral stairs. 

"To stop this madness," he said. "I have to go, I have no choice. I should have done something before... my dear, I have to go and stop Grindelwald." 

"Oh, Albus, you can't!" She pleaded. 

"I've let him go before and now I must clean up the mess I've made." 

She couldn't believe it. She knew all about Grindelwald and Albus's association with him. She knew that he had tried to tempt Albus into darkness and cruelty and Albus had been on the edge of following until... well, she didn't know what stopped him, other than his kind, good heart of course, for he wouldn't say. She had a feeling that was the reason that he and Aberforth didn't speak but Minerva hated to pry. Why must Albus be the one to stop him, when Albus hadn't seen the man for so long? Why couldn't somebody else do it? She sighed, somebody else had probably offered but Albus, ever noble, had been stubborn and had volunteered himself, hearing so argument. 

"When are we going?" She asked. 

Albus, who had been sat with his eyes closed, quickly open them, fear in his eyes. "We?"

"Yes, Albus," she said a little sharply. "When are we going?" 

"You're not going anywhere," he said. 

"I'm not leaving you to go on your own-"

"No!" He shouted. "I'm not taking you with me, it isn't safe-"

"If it isn't safe then you certainly will not be going alone," she countered, straightening her back, ready for the fight. 

"Minerva, I can't risk-" 

"You are not going with out me," she said. "I'm powerful enough to keep out of harms way." 

"It is not your abilities that I doubt," he said softly. "I cannot let you come with me, I'd never live with myself if anything happened to you."

"And I could not live if anything happened to you," she retorted. "I've lived with out you before, Albus and those years were the most miserable of my life. I cannot live the rest of my life like that. I cannot sit here and wait for you, go out of my mind with worry, I'm not that kind of woman."

"That's what I feared," he muttered. "You have to stay here."

"I do not!" She said, her temper flaring a little. "You are not my keeper, last time I checked."

"And if I leave without you?" 

"I will follow," she said simply. 

"You won't know where I am."

"I'll search the whole of Europe to find you." They were words of sentiment but Minerva spoke that so plainly and with such sincerity that they came across as fact. 

He sighed, shaking his head, defeated. "I can't have you wandering..." he said thoughtfully. "And I know that you mean it." 

"I do." 

"Minerva, if I allow you to come, you must do everything I say. You must promise that if I tell you to run, you run, even if it means leaving me."

"I cannot promise that," she replied quickly.

"How did I know that you were going to say that?" He smiled a little. "What am I going to do with you?" He paused as he gazed at her thoughtfully. "Pack light, warm clothes, good walking shoes. Muggle clothes, if you have them, otherwise not anything that will draw too much attention." 

Minerva nodded. "Right, yes. When do I need to be ready?" 

"In an hour."

"And hour?"

"Yes," he said, rising from his seat. "I'm going to get prepared," he kissed her cheek and left in a swish of robes. 

She hurried to her bedroom, flicking her wand so that every drawer and wardrobe door flew open. She levitated a small carpet bag from the top of the wardrobe and began to throw in the necessities; underwear, a skirt, trousers, blouses, socks, a few knitted jumpers. Then she made her way into the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush, tooth paste and hairbrush. She threw off her robes and pulled on a pair of pair of dark, tweed trousers, a good warm vest and a pale green knitted, v-neck jumper. She kicked off her shoes and replaced them with her best walking boots. She glanced at the clock, it had only only her twenty minutes. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, hands at her side, slightly pressing down on the mattress. She was scared, terrified in fact. She had never ventured into the unknown, having planned her every move and knowing, mostly, of what was to come. She was worried for herself but mostly for Albus- if something happened to him she was sure that she would die of a bitterly broken heart. She knew that he would jump in front of her if it meant that it saved her life and she wasn't sure that that was an altogether good thing. Albus needed to live even if she didn't. That was of up most importance. 

Forty minutes later Albus appeared in her doorway, smiling shakily at her. "Packed?" 

She nodded dumbly, her heart in her throat. "Yes," she whispered so quietly is was barely audible. 

He crouched down in front of her, a hand cupped around her soft, smooth cheek. "My dear, you're frightened, I can see it in your beautiful eyes. You do not have to come with me, it's okay to change your mind-"

"No!" She cried suddenly, clutching at his wrist, pushing his hand slightly harder against her cheek. "You can't leave me! I can't live without you again, not for a moment. I'm fine, really, just overwhelmed I suppose." She paused. "But I'm coming." 

He nodded before he kissed her firmly on the mouth. "I love you, Minerva."

"I know," she smiled softly. "I love you too, Albus, my dearest, darling Albus."

He smiled back before he got back onto his feet and grabbed her bag. "Come on then, my dear." 

"I can carry my own bag." 

"Call me a gentleman," he smiled as he bent down to pick up his own back that sat by the door. 

She followed him down to the apparation point. He walked quickly, with purpose and Minerva found that her legs couldn't quite keep up with his long strides but she pressed on anyway, without complaint. He held out his arm to her and by the time she closed her eyes and opened them again, she found herself in the darkest of forests. 

It was cold, snow lay thickly on the ground and they grey sky above told her that there would be more. Tall trees with thin trunks surrounded them, making it almost impossible to see two feet in front of her. She buried herself into Albus's side as the cold wind nipped at her. 

"Don't talk," he whispered into her ear. 

She nodded and followed him as he began to trudge through the snow. He held her hand as she followed, concentrating on her footing so that she didn't fall over. The fresh snow crunched beneath her feet and made the first six inches of her legs wet. She cursed herself that she couldn't keep up with Albus, she felt rather useless but she was glad that she had come. Thinking of him, alone in this darkness would have worried but not knowing where he was at all would have made her mad. 

As they continued on their path, Minerva wondered if Albus knew where he was going and if so how. Had he been here before? She wished she could ask him but he had instructed her not to talk and she was wise enough to know not to disobey him, besides, he probably wouldn't have told her anyway. He didn't really tell her a lot and it was since meeting Aberforth that it had began to bother her. 

He stopped quite suddenly and Minerva thought she might be sick with fear. He drew his wand and she instinctively drew hers. She could hear what he could-something was coming. A scream caught in her throat. Albus shook his head. "I've brought you into a trap," he said angrily. 

A shrill laugh from behind her made her jump. She quickly turned around to find a tall, thin man standing only a foot away from her. He looked at her with malicious brown eyes and sneered. "I didn't think you'd bring your pet along, Albus," he said. 

Albus pulled her arm and she was behind him. One of his arms outstretched to her, holding her back and the other was out in front of him, with his wand pointed at the man. "Gellert," he said coldly. 

"It's good to see you, my friend." 

Albus laughed. "I think you may be too hopeful." 

"I see." Grindelwald nodded slowly, thoughtfully rolling his wand in his hand. Suddenly, he shouted something Minerva could not understand and a flash of purple was coming her way. She deflected it with ease. Albus let out a long breath, brushing his hand lightly with hers. 

Albus countered the spell, vivid red shooting at his foe and so the battle began. Flashes of menacing colours shot too and throw, the wizards silently hurling one curse after enough. Minerva began to shake as green lights began to fight their way to Albus. When one very nearly hit him, she ran forward and began flicking her wand with graceful ease, emitting spells that were as powerful at the two men's. 

"Get back, Minerva, please," Albus shouted at her. 

"You are not doing this alone!" She cried. 

The cold didn't bother her any more as she deflected curse after curse and threw them back as quickly as they came at her. She found herself hardly breathing, as if that took up energy she could use. With a loud bang, she cried out as Albus was shot backwards. She couldn't turn around and help him she knew but tears filled her eyes as he got to his feet. However, as he picked up a small piece of what was his wand, she felt sick. Instinctively, she quickly shot a powerful deflector over them both and then threw her wand at Albus, who caught it gratefully.

"Get behind me," he said, pushing her behind him.

But she lost her balance and fell to the floor. She tried to scramble up, wishing she could transfigure into the cat but it was too dangerous, however, she wasn't quick enough and before she knew it all she could see was crimson coming towards her. She heard a hoarse shout from Albus before her world went blank. 

**************************************************************************************************************

Albus could hardly stand. Minerva lay behind him on the cold snow, her face smoothed into a peace that made his heart wrench. As Gellert finally went down and Albus binded him, he fell with relief to his knees, drawing Minerva to him immediately. She was freezing and he threw as many warming charms on her as he could. When that didn't warm her sufficiently, he began to remove his jacket and jumper, wrapping them around her and holding her tightly to him. Her breathing was shallow and her face draining of colour. He knew these signs all to well and he felt a piece of his world crumble as each breath took longer to come and her skin grew whiter and whiter. 

"Minerva, please," he said desperately, rocking her gently. "Just hold on. I'm going to get you to somewhere warm, you'll be safe before you know it, just a few more minutes," the tears came, fast and stinging as he looked onto her beautiful face. It was a face that never failed to take his breathe away. When he thought of everything that this dear, remarkable girl had been through and his heart swelled. She didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve to die cold in the snow, away from what she knew. She deserved to live, to smile and laugh and then he sighed- she had always deserved so much more than she'd been given. 

He watched her breathing became slower, more shallow and he began to shake with desperation. If Minerva left him, his world would end. She had left him before but that wouldn't hurt as much- at least before she had gone on living, gone on smiling and laughing and lighting up the world. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe that she was his, that she loved him and allowed him to love her. He had only been living for just over a year, surely his world couldn't end now. 

"Minerva, my darling, my love, please don't leave me. You've got to fight, you can't give up. You have so much to give, you are so special, so lovely, Minerva, I am nothing without you," he began to choke on his tears as his throat began to tighten. "You bring out everything that is worthwhile in me, I can't- Minerva, you cannot give up. I swear to God, don't give up. You have to try, for me, for yourself, for Poppy and Ellen and the children- anything! Find anything and hold onto it, my dear, let that bring you back to me. I love you, I can't imagine being with out you, I just want to make you happy..." he stopped and held his breathe as her eyes began to flicker up her almost transparent lids. 

Her eyes suddenly opened, dull with death. She looked at him, recognised him a moment later and smiled weakly. "You're here," she whispered, her lips hardly moving. 

"Yes, yes, I'm here," he cried. "I'll always be here, just stay, Minerva, you have to stay. I want to spend my life with you, I want you to be my wife." 

"Albus, I thought you'd never ask," she tried to smile. "I'll be your wife, I'll be your wife tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, my darling, tomorrow," he wept. "Just hold on now." 

"Albus?"

"Yes?"

"You are everything." 

He pulled her up to him. "You are more." 

She shook her head weakly but it felt limply against his chest. He looked down and panic filled him, she looked so still, so white that she had to be dead. She'd left him, she was gone- his heart plummeted, shattering as it crashed against the pit of his stomach. She couldn't be dead, she couldn't leave him, she had to live- 

"Minerva, no!" He said defiantly through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to let you die, I'm not going to let you leave me." He moved her off of him, to hold her and look at her. He felt limp as he saw her chest move. She was breathing! Oh, she hadn't left him, she was here, with him, her heart was beating! 

He kissed her forehead, breathing her in as he did. "Just hold on, my love, I'm going to get you home."


	16. Balancing

When Albus woke, his arms felt empty. He shot up and looked around-where was Minerva? The last thing he could remember was holding her firmly in his arms as he closed his eyes, just for a minute. Where was she? He had to find her. 

"Don't get up, nurse's orders," His brother barked at him. 

Albus turned his head to find Aberforth sitting on a rough wooden chair next to him. By the blandness of the walls and the smell as it slowly assaulted his nostrils, he knew that he was in a hospital. Judging by the fact that his brother sat beside him, he knew that he was in St Mungo's. 

"Minerva? Where is she, she was here," he held out his empty arms. "Where have they taken her?"

"Forth floor," Aberforth replied. "Nearly dead, she was. What were you thinking, taking her with you? Are you stupid? Or was you so selfish that you had to have your sport, even when searching for death?"

"It was nothing like that," Albus spat. "She wanted to come, she threatened to come after me if I left her. I thought she would be safer with me than wandering the world on her own." 

"You should have chained her to the wall, rather than let her leave," Aberforth retorted. "I'd have done that to Poppy-"

"If you knew Minerva, you'd know that she would have found a way out," Albus said angrily. How dare his brother question what he did. Albus did what he thought was best in the situation, he had thought she would be able to keep her safe. "I will not be questioned by you, I need to find Minerva." He threw back the covers and swung his legs out of the bed. 

"On your head be it," Aberforth remarked. "Come on, I'll show you where she is, Poppy is with her." 

He lead him to Minerva's room in silence. When they reached the door, Albus stopped. He was suddenly terrified of what he might find on the other side. His eyes widened when he felt his brother pat his back. "She needs you," was all he said and Albus nodded and gingerly opened the door. 

Poppy sat next to her, red eyed and puffy faced, holding Minerva's hand. She had been looking intently at Minerva before Albus entered and then she looked up at him. She didn't meet him with the cold eyes and slight twist of disgust as she usually did but her wide blue eyes were filled with sympathy and fear that mirrored his own. 

"I had to take her, Poppy," he said, his body shaking with weakness, fear and grief. "She threatened to follow me, she would have been lost, I thought-" 

"Oh, Albus!" Poppy cried and she glided to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She held him against her, trying to still his shaking for fear he would fall to the ground and she wouldn't be able to hold him up. 

"You have to understand," he rasped painfully. "I'm sorry, so sorry, I never wanted anything to happen to her, I love her, I love her..." 

"I know, I know," she soothed. "Are you well enough to be here?" She furrowed her light brows and brought the back of her hand on his forehead. "You are a bit hot-"

"I'm not going," he shook his head quickly. 

"Very well," she rubbed his arm. "Come and sit down before you fall down," she lead him to the chair she had previously occupied. 

Albus grabbed Minerva's cold hand as soon as he sat down. "How long have you been here?" He asked quietly, without looking up. 

"Three days," Poppy said. "I transfigure the chair into a bed at night and doze." 

"Oh, Poppy, you shouldn't, what about your boy?" 

"My mother has him, I had to be here for Minerva," she replied simply. 

"That's very good of you, Poppy. The thought of her laying here on her own..."

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I love her, Albus, I couldn't be anywhere else." She paused for a minute. "Ignore what Aberforth say, if it had been he that had to go, I would have followed him no matter what. When you love somebody, you will follow them into the abyss."

Albus covered her hand with his. "I know."

"She's much better," Poppy said a little brighter. "When they found you, Moody and the rest, they knew you would be okay - pneumonia- but they weren't sure about Minerva, she hung in the balance. When Aberforth told me what had happened, I rushed here and when I saw her...Oh, Albus! She looked awful, for a moment I thought she was dead. I had to help her, none of those out there have got enough brains as far as I'm concerned. It took me two days to get her stable. What was the spell that hit her."

Albus shrugged. "One of his," he said, his voice filled with disgust. 

"Her lungs were collapsed, her rib cage shattered...but as I said, she's much better now."

"Is she going to wake up?"

"Soon, I should think." 

With a low groan, his head fell onto the bed. "Oh, thank God. I thought-"

"Albus, she isn't going wake up just yet, and you are not well-"

"I'm fine," he said quickly. Did she really think that now he was here that he was going to leave her side? He'd sit here with her the rest of his life if he had to. "I'm going to stay with her now. Go home to your son, Poppy, he'll be missing you. I promise to let you know when she wakes up." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Of course!" He smiled at her. "I can't thank you enough for what you have done." 

"I wouldn't have done anything else," she shocked them both as she bent down and kissed his cheek. "Get some rest," she said and was gone before Albus looked up. 

He looked intently at Minerva's face. It was quite still, paler than usual and dark, black circles clung to the bottom of her eyes. Her long lashes fell against her cheeks, her mouth straight and her lips white. She looked lovely, despite being ill and his heart swelled when he looked at her. He had thought that he had lost her, when he had woken up, all he could see was a grey world, for if she died, she would take all the colour with her. The thought of living without her made his mouth go dry and his throat constrict. He never wanted to be without her again. 

He hoped that she would still want to be his wife. It wasn't the most romantic of proposals but he had meant it. He wanted her for the rest of his life, he knew that he'd love her for longer. He should have made her his wife seven years ago, age be damned, comments be damned. They should never have spent any time apart, he realised his mistake now. He had only wanted her to try and find a better life. He had felt so guilty over the baby that he felt that she must hate him as he hated himself. He wished that he had only dropped to his knee as soon as she had come to him. He could have had a wife and child by now, a wonderful bright six year old who filled his life with joy. 

He couldn't picture himself with neither a son or a daughter but he could picture what they would have looked like. His son would be as bright as Minerva, as mischievous as himself, with Minerva's shining black hair and his own blue eyes. He would be brave, able and an agreeable, active little boy that he would struggle to keep up with but welcome the tiredness that he brought. His daughter would be beautiful, grace and long limbed like Minerva, with bright red, Dumbledore hair and piercing green eyes like her mother. She would be quiet, loving, witty and he couldn't help but think that she would possess Minerva's thunderous temper and he smiled at the thought. Fancy having to contend with two, fiery women! 

They had been robbed, Minerva and he, the night when Minerva had gone to one of those women. If he only knew who she were, he was sure that he would kill her himself. How dare she allow a young, frightened girl to go through that, when she knew what would no doubt happen? He remembered Priscilla's sad words as she worked on her, "I would have done it," she had said. "If she really were that desperate. I know how...don't ask my just now, Albus. That's for another time but let me tell you, if had asked, I would have, anything to make her happy. At least it would have been safer with me." 

He shook his head. He couldn't think about the past, the what if's of his life with Minerva. He needed her now, to be strong, to hold on until she opened those beautiful eyes. He had to look forward, to their future that they would build together. Just because they couldn't have children didn't mean that their home wouldn't be filled with love. Minerva was more than enough for him, he would be a content man for the rest of his life with Minerva by his side. 

"You're here." Minerva's eyes opened, bright with confusion. Her voice was hoarse. 

"Minerva!" He cried, happier than he had ever felt. "I'm so sorry, I should never-"

"No, Albus," she said weakly. "You should. I fell, I couldn't get up...I'm here now, with you."

"Yes, yes with me," he kissed her hand over and over. "Always with me." 

"Always," she whispered. 

"Are you in pain? What do you need?"

She shook her head with a shaky smile. "Nothing at all, I'm fine, especially with you here."

He leant forward, careful not to move her and kissed her head lightly. "I love you, Minerva."

"I love you," she said, closing her eyes. Her face was peaceful, full of thought before she opened her eyes, which were filled with worry and little fear. "I've laid in a hospital bed before, with you beside me and you told me that you were going to marry me, once. Do you still want to marry? I remember what you said, in the forest, I think it made me live..." she smiled sadly. "Perhaps that is why you said it. Why would you want to marry me?"

His face clouded with grief. How could she think so lowly of herself? He would be a very honoured, lucky man to be her husband, any man would. What could he do to make her see what everybody else could? What could he say to her? "My dear, I meant every word. If you were to agree to be my wife, I would be happier than I ever dreamed I could be." 

"I did agree," she said. "I said tomorrow, I meant it."

"Tomorrow, tomorrow you will be my wife, I can promise you that."

She smiled, content. "I'm tired, very tired and I want to look cheerful tomorrow don't I?" She smiled. "Stay with me?"

"I'll be here all night."

"No," she shook her head weakly. "Not there," slowly, painfully, she shuffled across the bed. "Here, with me."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

She was asleep before he could move in beside her and as he lay on his side, he pulled her gently too him. With his arms around her, he fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

 


	17. Ellen and Poppy's Grand Magic

Poppy wearily got out of bed. She hadn't time to rub her eyes, or even yawn, for William was screaming for her and she felt the innate drive to go to him. She had missed him while she had been with Minerva for she loved the boy more than she ever thought she would. It was probably because he looked so much like Aberforth and her love for him sometimes winded her it was so powerful. 

William smiled at her as she leaned over his cot and lifted him into her arms. He calmed down as soon as his head rested against her shoulder and she began to whisper to him. He was a good child, Ellen often said that he had the temperament perfect for a first child - Robert, Ellen's eldest son, had suffered with colic and Ellen had gone nearly a year with out sleep. Poppy was grateful that William was such a good child- she couldn't imagine spending a year without any thought but how tired she was! 

"Has he been up long?" Aberforth smiled. His favourite scene was this one, his wife dancing gently with her son. He didn't think that he would ever have adapted to fatherhood as easily as he had but he knew it was the best thing he had ever done. Poppy and William gave his life meaning. 

Poppy shook her head, her lips not leaving the top of William's head. "I think he'll go back."

"Minerva woke up," Aberforth said. "Albus didn't write, he fell asleep."

"Oh, lovely!" Poppy could finally feel relieved. Minerva was awake, she had pulled through. She had seen her dear friend too close to death too many times. "Thank you for telling me."

Aberforth kissed his wife's cheek. "Minerva needs you in the morning," he smiled. "Albus is going to marry her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! But she's still so ill!"

"Tomorrow, they are adamant. Albus mentioned something along the lines of missing their chance too many times."

Poppy furrowed her brows. "It's so quick, Minerva might not be thinking clearly-"

"You said you felt sorry for him earlier," Aberforth pointed out. 

Poppy lowered William into his cot, touched his cheek and lead Aberforth from the room. His voice carried and she didn't want William waking up for good just yet. "I did, but that doesn't mean I think that they should get married," she said when they were in the hallway. "He still did what he did and after what you've told me, I don't think I can trust him. He loves her, I don't doubt that, but will he always be faithful? Marriage entwines them forever, it won't be just a simple break. It will be messy-"

Aberforth kissed her mouth quickly. "Would you have listened to Minerva, to anybody, if they had told you not to marry me?"

She sighed. "No. I would have married you even if death himself warned me not too," she let her head fall against his shoulder. "I suppose I've just got to accept him, Minerva obviously sees something good in him and has done for a long time. When we left school and she didn't even take an interest in relationships, I thought it was because she was traumatised about what happened. I didn't realise that she could still love the culprit! But love him she does, and I want her to be happy."

"I'm glad," Aberforth grinned. "She's up right now, waiting for you to do her hair or something, something womanly."

Poppy laughed and kissed his cheek lightly. "It's a good job you have a son, you wouldn't do well surrounded by women!" 

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Minerva was getting married. She was marrying Albus. She was going to be his wife. 

Excitement and nerves gnawed at her stomach. After so many years of dreaming, of hurting, of wanting, she was going to be his wife. It was all she had ever longed for. During their time apart she had waited everyday for him. She knew that he would never come but she waited anyway, willing him to come to her, to comfort her and marry her. It had only ever been him, he was the keeper of her heart. When she died, chest were cut open to reveal her heart, engraved upon it would be ' _Albus._ ' 

She could ignore the pain in her sore chest that stabbed her every time she breathed. She wasn't going to let something like that ruin the day that she had waited all of her life for. Of course she hadn't imagined that it would take place in a hospital room, just as she hadn't imagined that she would an injured bride. As a child she dreamed of the white dress, the elegant veil and the long walk on her father's arm. She sighed deeply, wincing as she did. What she wouldn't give to have her father with her. He was the one person, apart from Albus, who knew her and loved her completely. Suddenly she was glad that there was no dress, veil or aisle- it wouldn't have seemed whole without her father, if she had married that way. This way was their own way, Albus and her's, and his presence wouldn't be so keenly missed in such a unique ceremony. 

"Right," Poppy declared as she suddenly marched through the door and rolled up her sleeves. "I hear I'm to ready you for a wedding."

"Poppy!" Minerva smiled. "I didn't think you would be here so quickly."

"She would have been here quicker if she hadn't had to come and get me!" Ellen popped her head around the door, her face beaming. She clapped her hands with excitement as she waddled in, heavily pregnant. She carefully bent and wrapped her arms around Minerva. "You know how useless Poppy is with clothes. She can conjure a bandage but she cannot create a masterpiece from a hospital gown!" 

Poppy stuck her tongue out as she brought a hand to Minerva's head. "Your fever has gone down... are you in pain?"

"A little," Minerva admitted. 

Poppy immediately levitated a small, bright red vile from a mirrored cabinet that hung on the wall. "Get her arm, Ellen, help her arms, gently," she ordered. "Drink this, drink it up. Don't be shy."

Minerva did as she was told. It was a vile, bitter mixture that left a grainy taste on her tongue. "Lovely," she said. 

"I'm sure," Poppy replied. "Now, how would you like the room? I'm not brilliant at transfiguration, couldn't never abide my professor," she said with a cheeky glint in her eye," but somebody could and became as pro at the subject. Just  _how_  she got such good results, I could never guess-"

"Poppy!" Minerva warned. 

"Anyway, I'm not as good as you, but you couldn't turn water into ice in an ice box, you are so week," Poppy said quickly. "So tell me what you want and tell me how to do it and I'll try my best."

"I didn't really think that-"

"Well, hurry up, Albus will be here in two hours and looking at the birds nest on top of your head, I'm going to need most of the time to sort that out!" 

Over the next hour, Poppy slowly transformed the room. Some spells took her a couple of try's, mainly because Poppy was very critical about her work. Minerva guided her with the complicated spells but thank God that Ellen had some vision, for Poppy and Minerva hardly had a handful between them. By the time Ellen was done, the room looked nothing like a grey, clinical box as it had beforehand. The walls were draped with white curtains, candlelight twinkling behind them. From the ceiling hung a great crystal and gold chandelier, a deep green climbing ivy intricately woven around it. In the corners of the room stood high, crystal candelabra's sporting four long candles surrounded by pale cream peonies and white roses. The floor looked as if it were made of white marble, the flames from the candles glittering off of it. When the three women inspected what they had created, they each looked satisfied and slightly amazed. 

Next, Poppy began work on Minerva's wild hair as Ellen pulled of Minerva's hospital gown and thoughtfully began altering it. After two, hefty untangling charms, Poppy was finally able to make Minerva's hair shine vibrantly. She lifted, pulled and pinned, groaning in exasperation every time she surveyed each style and found that she wasn't satisfied with it. Finally, she neatly curled the ends, tousled the the top lightly and pinned it all to one side. "Minerva, I need a flower or something, or-"

Ellen held out something. When Poppy took it she gasped. It was a beautiful, diamond hair piece, that sat flat against the head. Woven in with the swirls of diamonds were tiny emeralds. "I came prepared," she said simply. 

"Where did you get this?" Minerva asked. 

"It was my grandmother's. When I got married it looked ridiculous on me but I knew it would lovely on you." 

"I can't-"

"Nonsense!" Ellen cried. "Poppy, ignore her and put it on her hair!"

"Yes, mother," Poppy murmured with a smirk to Minerva. 

Several minutes later, Ellen held up the dress and said, "Will this be okay?" 

Minerva's mouth fell open, something that neither of the women had seen her do. "Oh, Ellen, I..." She couldn't find the words. Not an hour ago, the dress in front of her had been a drab, shapeless grey bag and now she was looking at the most elegant, beautiful gown she had ever seen. It was made of long flowing while satin, with silk panels down the sides. A wide, round train fell from the back, edged in fine, dainty lace. It had long sleeves and a simple round neckline. Down the back ran dozens of tiny, silk covered buttons. Minerva touched it gingerly- she never thought she would wear such a thing, it was stunning. 

"I can add a little lace-"

"No!" Minerva cried. "It's wonderful."

The two women eased the bride into the dress, careful not to hurt her for no matter how brave a face she put on, they knew she was in pain. As Ellen helped her to her feet, Poppy bent down and pulled out the train of the dress, smoothed the sides down and made sure that the bottom of the dress was arranged perfectly. She covered her mouth as she stood back up and took Minerva's hands in her own. "Out of each of us, you deserve this. You've suffered more than we could ever imagine, Ellen and I. I want you to be happy for the rest of your life."

"Oh, Poppy," Minerva choked. "I don't-"

"I quite agree!" Ellen cried. "And we won't hear any objections," she said quickly. She looked at her dainty silver watch. "Albus will be here in a minute and no bride has ever waited for a groom to arrive, let Poppy help you into the bathroom, you can make your entrance from there."

Slowly, Minerva made her way to the other room, leaning apologetically on Poppy. When the door had closed, Ellen made her way into the hallway to wait for the groom. She couldn't quite believe that Minerva was going to marry their Professor. It was strange, of course wonderful, but strange. 

He smiled at Ellen as he came up the corridor, looking a little nervous. Ellen felt the same fear of him that she had felt in school and she blushed. It was silly, she knew, but she had ever known him as a professor and she still felt that innate fear of them. 

"Hello, Professor," she mumbled, her head down. 

"Really, Miss White, after leaving so many years ago, you still put your head down in fear?" He asked softly. "I'm not your professor anymore, I'm just Albus."

Ellen smiled at him. "And I'm no longer Miss White," she said. 

"Apologies, Mrs Prewitt it is so rare-"

"I didn't mean that!" She laughed. "I'm Ellen."

He nodded, a kind smile across his rather chalky face. "How is Minerva, is she well enough?"

"I think if she were dying she would still do this," Ellen replied. 

"That's what I worry about." 

 

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Never, in all his life, did Albus think he could ever be as happy as he was the moment that Minerva became his wife. 

While the setting was awe inspiring, he had quite forgotten where is was when Minerva, shyly, emerged from the other room. He had to close his eyes for a moment to steady himself and when he opened them, the graceful, beautiful figure that stood before him made his heart melt. He had never seen anything as breath taking- her skin glowed in the simple, stunning gown and her hair shone as it tumbled down one shoulder. He could never have imagined that Minerva would look as she did- he didn't think it were possible for somebody to be so beautiful, so mesmerising. 

He couldn't quite believe, as she said her vows in earnest and with determination in her eyes, that she was willing to marry him, after everything. He couldn't believe that he was being granted this happiness when he had spent so much of his life believing that he could never be happy. 

Most of all, he couldn't believe, as he and Minerva turned to their friends, that they were finally one. He couldn't believe it as Ellen said, joyously and with a clap, "Presenting, Mr and Mrs Albus Dumbledore." 


	18. Ellen Lillian Prewitt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Three: Wife

Minerva fell to the ground. Albus didn't have time to catch her. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. The world span around her, her vision blurred. 

Ellen was dead. 

Ellen... Ellen was dead. 

Albus fell to his knee's next to her, smoothing her hair. "Minerva?"

She shook her head. She couldn't speak. Ellen was dead. Ellen was dead. 

Her dear friend was dead. Ellen, little Ellen White who had looked so nervous on the train, so white and frail that Minerva had been drawn to her. She had expected her to say that she was muggle born and therefore overwhelmed with everything that was happening but Ellen had shook her head. 

_"I've never been away from my parents for this long... what if I do something wrong, what if I'm shouted at all the time?"_

_"Come on, you'll be fine," Minerva smiled. "Minerva," she held out a little hand._

_"Ellen," the girl had smiled sadly._

Ellen was dead. 

She would never see her heart shaped face again, never look upon her soft, doe like eyes. Despite being a wife and mother, Ellen still often looked like a young girl, her features had never hardened with age but had stayed as soft and round as they had been on that very first day that Minerva had met her. Ellen had been the purest of them all, the kindest and had proven that she was braver than any of them. 

_"I don't understand," Ellen said. "I'm terrified of everything!"_

_"Somewhere there must be something," Minerva reassured. "Otherwise you wouldn't be in this house."_

_Ellen shook her head. "No, no, it's a mistake, I don't belong here."_

And yet Ellen had faced more fears that Minerva ever had. Minerva had ran from most of hers. Ellen had gone to Albus that night that Minerva's father died; she had told her overbearing mother that, no, she wasn't going to try and made a career but was going to marry her beau straight out of school; she had borne a child at the tender age of eighteen and ignored the jibes that society offered her. Ellen had been so brave, even when facing death. 

_Ellen fell back against the pillows. Her face was ghostly, there seemed to be no life left in it. With black eyes, she starred at Minerva and Poppy. "You have to make sure that the boys, the boys are safe."_

_"Ellen, we would die before we let anything happen to your boys," Minerva whispered._

_"And this baby?"_

_"Will always know how much it's mother loved them."_

_Ellen nodded. She turned to Priscilla and Poppy, as mother and daughter fought their hardest to save two, precious lives. "I'm not scared," she rasped. "I'm dying in order to give life. Don't worry about me, my life is ebbing away, save the baby."_

_"We can save both-"_

_"No, no, no," Ellen moaned. "Don't waste time that could be spent on the child. Get the child out."_

_"The pain-"_

_"I will bear it."_

_"Ellen..." Minerva didn't know what to say. How could she give up? How could she - And then Minerva stopped. She was giving her life for her child. Something Minerva would most certainly have done. "Ellen, hold onto me."_

Ellen was dead. Minerva would never forget the torturous screams and hoarse cries of her meek, quiet friend as the baby came into the world. She would never forget how her face twisted in a most inhumane way, how she cried out, but she never broke. She never gave up. She didn't lay back against the pillows until the baby, a girl, was born. 

Ellen was dead. She was dead before the baby was placed in her arms. She was dead before her back touched the damp pillows. She never lived to even glance at the baby that she gave up her life for. 

_Poppy caught Eli Prewitt as his legs gave way. Priscilla held the baby tightly too her, a mother's tears wetting her cheeks. Minerva, stricken, held Ellen's limp, cold hand._

_"I never wanted this baby," Eli said coldly. "Damn it! I only want Ellen."_

_"Don't be so stupid!" Priscilla hissed. "This woman, this dear girl, gave up her life for this baby and now you scorn it? Will the sacrifice of your wife be tainted by your words? Pull yourself together, man."_

_Eli nodded, his eyes as wide and clueless as a deer's as it faced the shotgun. "Yes, yes," he mumbled. "Oh what am I going to tell my boys? How can I tell them that their mother has died?"_

_"I'll come with you," Poppy said quietly._

_"Thank you," he turned to Priscilla. "May I take my daughter?"_

_Silently, Priscilla placed the baby in Eli's open arms. He looked down at the small creature, his face melting into a tender softness. "She's like her mother, did Ellen say she was like her?"_

_"Ellen never saw her," Poppy said gently._

_Silence fell._

"Love?" Albus asked gently. "You should get up."

Minerva shook her head. No.

Ellen was dead.

Ellen was dead and yet Minerva couldn't find tears. She looked at her pale arms and saw the faint bruises that Ellen had put there. If only she could keep them forever, if only Ellen's touch would never fade. Ellen had been her constant. Ellen had loved her. They had been closer than sisters, they had understood one another. Ellen would have followed Minerva anywhere and a part of Minerva wish that she could return the favour and follow Ellen now, as she lived on in a world so far away. 

Ellen was dead. Ellen was going to face a unknown world on her own. Ellen had never liked to be on her own. She'd spent her childhood with her parents, her school years with her friends and her short lived adulthood with her husband and children. Minerva thought of Ellen alone, wandering through the darkness, looking for the light that would bring her peace. Somebody should be there to hold her hand, to guide her to her destination. Somebody should be there to make sure she was okay- 

But Ellen was brave. She'd proven that. She had always belonged, only she couldn't see it. 

She would never see it. 

Ellen was dead. 


	19. The End of the World

Barely a year after her marriage, Minerva found herself running through the crowded corridors of the school, her heart in her throat. She ignored the faces of her students, who looked at her as if she had gone mad - they had never seen Professor Mcgonagall run anywhere and they had certainly never seen her with a flushed faced and her hair falling from it's tightly wound bun. "Would you mind where you are going?" She called to the dumbfounded children in her usual strict tone. She hadn't time to be polite- she needed to get to Poppy. 

Finally! Finally! She was terrified to think it. She couldn't believe that this was happening. Why did the damn hospital wing have to be so far away from her own office? 

"Pomfrey!" She cried as she clattered into the empty wing. "Poppy! I need you!" 

Poppy came rushing from her office, her face panic stricken. Ever since the death of Ellen both Poppy and Minerva had become very protective and worrisome over the other. If Minerva needed her, Poppy would be there in a heartbeat. "What's wrong? What do I need?" She asked urgently. 

Minerva beamed as Poppy, her smile wider and brighter than Poppy had ever seen it. Very uncharacteristically, Minerva grabbed Poppy and pulled her to her, squeezing her tightly. "I've done it!" Minerva cried. "I've done it! Oh, Poppy, I've done it!" Minerva could hardly find the words. Tears threatened to escape- tears of exhaustion, relief, happiness. She had never felt so light, so utterly astounded. 

"Done what?" 

"Oh, Poppy, Poppy- I'm pregnant!" 

Poppy didn't smile. Her stomach knotted. Minerva had to be wrong and Poppy would have to let her down. She shook her head and placed her hand gently on Minerva's thin arm, "Minerva..."

"Don't pull that face," Minerva pleaded. "I know, I know what your mother said but... it's been four months. I didn't let myself believe it, I'm not stupid but Poppy, it's been four months... I did the spell-"

"You did what?" Poppy cried. 

"You heard me, I  _know_ ," Minerva said. 

Poppy nodded slowly. She wasn't sure what to do. Her mother had said that Minerva would never have a baby... how could it be so? Would the baby survive or would Minerva suffer more heartache? She looked at Minerva's bright, glowing face and her heart broke. She had never seen her friend happier, for even when she married there was a ghost in her green eyes, the ghost of the child that could never have been. Now her green eyes were fresh, striking and full of hope. Could Minerva survive another ordeal? Could the loss of the child finally break her? 

"I'm going to have to... er, I might, oh," Poppy just didn't know what to say or where to start. "Well... I suppose I'll have to examine you first, then I... well, we'll see."

After half an hour of spells, examinations and a quick floo visit from Priscilla, it was evident that Minerva was indeed, pregnant. Just how, neither Pomfrey witch knew but it pregnant she was and they could not have been happier for her. They both understood the pain that Minerva had gone through, Priscilla especially knew for she had seen the face of the girl when she had told Minerva the news that she would never have children. Priscilla thought that she had been right, that there was too much scaring, too much damage but she couldn't have been happier that she was wrong. The death of Ellen had been a great weight on Minerva, along with all the other pains that Minerva had endured in her short life, and it was nice that she was finally being granted a reprieve. 

"Minerva, I'm so happy for you," Poppy said once Priscilla had gone home. 

"I, I can't believe it," Minerva whispered. "I never thought that I would feel this happy. Recently, I've been so alone... Albus has been so busy that I-"

"Busy with what?" 

"Oh, the Ministry have been calling him out nearly all the hours that God sends," Minerva said. "Sometimes I don't really see him for days. I get little notes left and little trinkets and such. They are very thoughtful but... it's not the same as having him with me." Minerva sighed. She spent most of her nights alone, wondering when Albus would come home to her. Some nights she tried to stay up as long as possible but she usually fell asleep in her chair and woke to find dawn breaking through the window and still no Albus. She was worried about him, he must be tired and overworked. He certainly didn't look tired, she would admit that. When she saw him he looked lovely, well rested but she had noticed that he had this peculiar expression on his face, a mixture of admiration and guilt. She knew that he must feel guilty for leaving her alone all of the time but she only worried for him and not herself. 

Poppy's face was still. Albus had better sort himself out and stop coming and going as he pleased once the baby was born. He had been given a chance to make amends, as far as Poppy was concerned, and if he ruined his chance, Poppy would no longer be able to hold her tongue. She could still hardly tolerate the man and if he didn't make Minerva so happy, she wouldn't abide him at all. 

"But he'll be fine once the baby comes," Minerva said quickly. "He'll be so happy- oh! He doesn't know, I must-" She jumped to her feet, her smile still bright. "I'll see you later, Poppy," she said and she was off again, though not quite as fast. 

When she reached Albus's office, she sighed when she saw it was empty. She had the happiest news in the world and he wasn't here when she wanted to tell him. She didn't even know where he was. She turned on her heels, ready to leave. 

"Ah, Miss Mcgonagall," the portrait of her old headmaster smiled. 

"You mean Mrs Dumbledore, Armando," Headmaster Black corrected. 

Armando Dippet waved his hand. "I'm afraid she'll always be Miss Mcgonagall to me. I remember her when she was a student, quite extraordinary."

"Thank you," Minerva said humbly. 

"You're looking for Albus? He's in his rooms, had been for about an hour," Dippet said. "You can find him there."

"Oh, thank you!" She said, her spirits lifted. She made her way to his rooms, that rang along the same corridor of his office but were gotten to by a set of narrow, stone steps. She climbed to at a time. 

She whispered the password and hurried into his sitting room. The curtains were drawn, the fire was dead. It was as if nobody had been in here in days. She furrowed her brow - he shouldn't be working so hard. She would have to tell him. She clambered through the set of rooms until she reached his bedroom. She stopped outside the door. She didn't want to wake him if he was asleep, for he must need it but she was dying to tell him her news. It was news that he would never think possible, it would finally complete them. She decided that it was better to wake him, he could always go back to sleep afterwards, she decided as she pushed open the door, "Darling-" 

She stopped. She couldn't catch her breathe. 

Albus was... Albus-

She turned quickly and ran. She knew he would come after her and she couldn't listen to him, not when...

She ran as quickly as she could, not stopping, not thinking until she was safely in her rooms. She crumbled down the wall in the dark hallway. He'd done it. He'd done it to her. She thought, she thought that she was enough. 

Flashes of Albus with that woman was all she could see. She hadn't even seen the woman's face, she didn't even know who she was. All she could see was Albus, in the bed that they sometimes shared, with that woman. 

Her heart began to pound, her chest tightened. She had looked so stupid. She had looked so utterly pathetic. She was the little wife that they probably laughed about. The little wife who would die for her husband, while he enjoyed the benefits of her and sought for more. She couldn't believe that he had done this. After everything that they had been through to finally be together and he was willing to throw it all away. Did he love her? Surely he wouldn't have married her if he didn't love her. He had said that before, "I couldn't take a wife that I didn't love." But surely he couldn't do that to her if he loved her? 

She shook her head. She had given him everything. She had tried for so long to make them happy. Perhaps she was never meant to be with him, perhaps they should never - Minerva shook her head. That wasn't right. She couldn't love him as she did if it wasn't meant to be. Despite the pain, despite the crushing blow of what she had just seen, she still loved him. She couldn't not love him. She wished that she could simply decide that she didn't love him but she couldn't. That was her curse. 

As expected, Albus came within twenty minutes, his head down. She quickly jumped to her feet before he could see her on the floor and hurried to her sitting room, where she composed herself as best as she could. She wasn't about to let him see her broken and shattered because of what he had done. She sat with her back straight and her chin pointed. Her eyes were still and cool. 

"Minerva," he said quietly. He didn't attempt to sit down but stood in the doorway. He had the look of a scolded dog, a pining, remorseful look that suddenly made Minerva's blood boil. 

"Albus," she said coldly. She closed her eyes for a moment, pulling on all her strength. 

"Minerva, I never meant for you to see-"

"To see!" She jumped. She couldn't hold back. She had wanted him to say something, anything but that he didn't want her to see. "God damn it, Albus, I was under the same blasted roof!"

"I don't usually-"

"Usually!  _Usually!_ " She shouted, her voice cracking as it grew higher and higher. "We've been married a year! A year! How could you do this to me?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "You are my wife, I love you. I do love you. There is a certain degree of respect-"

"Respect? You think that having another woman in your bed is a sign of respect for me?"

"I don't know what to say, I'm sorry, Minerva."

"You are sorry that you were caught," she corrected with an arched brow. "I should have listened to Aberforth, he warned me that you would do this. But I ignored him. I thought that you loved me, that you would never do that to me- what a fool I was. I thought having lost me before and especially since nearly losing me again, you wouldn't have... I thought I was enough."

"Am I going to lose you?" He whispered. 

"How can I look at you the same way? How can I be with you when you could be thinking about somebody else? How can I spend the rest of my life wondering where you are, whether you will be coming home?" 

"You will always be first," he said. 

Minerva shook her head. "But not only," she replied sadly. 

"I cannot promise that," he said, with a little self loathing creeping across his face. 

"So that is my fate?" Minerva asked. "I am to be one of those wives?"

He remained silent. She watched him. He looked upset but she couldn't help but think that he was upset because Minerva had seen rather than because he was ashamed or remorseful. She suddenly realised that she wanted him to be ashamed. She wanted him to be on his knees, crying with shame and guilt. She wanted him to beg her to forgive him, to tell her he would never do it again, to admit how wrong he had been...but he wasn't doing any of that. He was even admitting that he might not be the only time. What if it went on and on until one day he found somebody he wanted more than Minerva. Then she would be left alone... with a child. She shook her head, he might be able to hurt her but she wasn't going to let him hurt their child. 

"I will not be one of those wives, Albus," she said quietly. "Unless I have your word that this will not happen-"

"I just told you that I couldn't." 

She felt her heart break but she didn't let him see. She kept herself as poised as possible. "I was afraid that would be the case," she said quietly. She spoke before her heart could change her mind. Turning to him, she said flatly, "I will go and stay with Aberforth and Poppy while you pack up your belongings. You can go to the cottage this Summer, I still have my parents home, I will spend my time there-"

"Minerva, please," he reached out for her but she jerked away. 

"No, Albus," she said. "I cannot live like this. After everything that we have been through, I thought, today, that I had found happiness at last. But you've destroyed it, as you have done time and time again. I cannot live with you, after this, I cannot be a timid, meek wife that allows her husband to leave her and the children behind." She stopped. She still hadn't told him. "Oh, I forgot to say, the reason I disturbed your little encounter today, is because I found out that, against all the odds thrown at me, I'm going to have a baby. It seems that I will never be able reveal this news to you in happy circumstances." 

"Minerva, you can't be serious? A baby? Are you sure?"

"Poppy and Priscilla have confirmed it," she said. 

"Minerva, I-that's wonderful, I can't-"

"Albus, stop. It's passed now. The moment can't be brought back," she sighed. "I wish... I wish everything could be different. I wish that I was enough..."

"My dear, you are-"

"Hardly!" Minerva snorted. "Or am I now that I am no longer barren? Is that it?"

"That was never the reason, and you know it-"

"Oh, what do I know?" She cried. "Everything I knew is wrong- I knew you loved me, I knew that we were happy, I knew that we were meant to be! None of that is true is it? We cannot function together. Everything has been thrown in our way and here it is. This is the end. The end of everything. The end of our world, Albus," she made her way to the door, pulling on a cloak as she did. "I hope you are happy, I hope that my heartbreak at least made you happy. For I fear I'll never be happy again."

 


	20. The Mind and Heart

When he heard a banging on the door, Albus leapt from his seat and ran to open it. "Minerva?" 

"Nah, it's not her," Aberforth said. "Ain't likely to be, neither." 

Albus's shoulders sagged. He'd waited in Minerva's rooms for hours, in case she came back. He knew that she probably wouldn't but there was always the slight chance. 

"I've come for some of Minerva's things," Aberforth declared. "Can I come in?"

Albus nodded and moved to let his brother pass. "I can get them," he said quietly. "Sit down if you want." 

Aberforth nodded and sank into the nearest seat. He tapped the arm of the chair before he laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I never thought you were that stupid," he said. 

"I know, I-how is she?"

"Crying on Poppy's shoulder," Aberforth replied. "You're lucky that my wife won't leave her otherwise she'd be marching up here ready to hex you into kingdom come. She's after your blood."

"Hasn't she always been?" 

Aberforth chuckled. "I suppose."

"Do you think-"

Aberforth laughed before Albus could finish. "Come back? She'd be a fool if she did. I doubt Poppy would let her anyway," he said. "Jesus, Albus! Do you not know a good thing when you've got it? You are no spring chicken, and that's being kind, and to bag a girl like Minerva, with brains to match her beauty! Sometimes I think that you think you have a God given right to everything-"

"That's enough-"

"I'm not one of your students! I'm going to tell you how it is!" He declared as he lounged back into his seat. "You take a girl of barely eighteen, fall in love with her and whatever, though you shouldn't of to begin with. And don't give me none of that being powerless against love- you should know better. At least wait until she ain't your student no more! And then, not only do you let this girl love you, you take her, take her as you have any other woman you wanted-"

"It wasn't like that-"

"I'll wager it was. How it must have soothed your ageing ego that a young girl like her could want you!" He snorted. "So you take her, whether you wrestled with guilt or not, you took her. And you carried on having her until it wasn't convenient anymore, until she comes running to you to tell you she's up the creek without a paddle! Any gentleman, though you've passed any gentlemanly contact by now, so any man I'll say, would have shit themselves but done the right thing by the child anyway. But you, you blame her! She trapped you did she? Well, I think it's the other way around! What did she know about life? God damn it, sometimes I wonder how we share the same blood!"

"I can't-"

"I'm not finished!" The brother barked. "The tale has only started. So, the girl has been shunned by you, pregnant and alone. She ruins herself, just to save grace, your grace, no doubt. When she comes round, having been told she's barren, you leave her. Bit late, isn't it? You've had your fill and now, in her most vulnerable state, you let her alone, to deal with things that no young girl, including the bright Minerva, can deal with alone. You should have let her be then. You'd done your work but you weren't finished! What were you thinking of asking her to work here? Did you think that nothing would happen? She'd been here barely an hour before she was in your arms again, thinking everything was finally in the past. When you told me you wanted to marry her, I thought finally, maybe he's doing the decent thing. I supported it, I knew she wanted it and by God, that girl deserves to be happy. And then you do this! You let her find you in your bed with some whore, in the place where you've set up home with your wife! I cannot understand it. I cannot understand why you can't appreciate the things you are given. You are a idiot, Albus, a dopey, stupid, selfish, ungrateful bastard." 

Albus listened in silence. He had no defence for the last part. He was a bastard. He had hurt his wife. He had cut her heart to pieces with his own hand. What was wrong with him? 

Albus left Aberforth to get some things from Minerva's room. He wasn't sure how much he should pack for her- would she be gone forever? Would she really leave him? 

He did love her. He loved her more than he thought he could ever love a woman. He knew his weaknesses. When he had done it before, to his kind, quiet fiancé all those years ago, he had of course felt guilty but blamed it rather on his not being in love with the girl. He had thought that loving Minerva as he did, he would never be tempted, never even look at another woman but he had been wrong. 

When Vanessa Cole had been in one of his endless meetings at the Ministry, he had hardly noticed her to begin with. Of course, he could see that she was charming, pretty perhaps but nothing like Minerva. She worked for her beauty, that much was evident in the way she twisted and pulled her hair so that it was becoming and the make up she applied to her thin face. Minerva didn't have to do anything to be beautiful- she had the rare gift of natural beauty. So why had Albus fallen for the cosmetic beauty of Vanessa? He wasn't sure himself. It seemed to him that she was just there, at the moment. He had been forced to spend so much time away from his wife, listening over and over again to the droll that emitted from the Minister that he had found Vanessa's advances convenient. She wasn't witty like Minerva, nor as interesting but he hardly had to talk to her did he? 

After it had happened the first time, Albus had never felt as guilty as he had when he went home to Minerva who was waiting patiently for him and seemed to so happy to see him. He promised himself that it would never happen again, that Minerva didn't deserve it. It had been an awful, awful mistake and he would live with his guilt rather than break his wife's sweet heart. But Albus, it seemed, wasn't as strong a man as some might think and soon as Vanessa put herself in his way the next time, he hadn't been able to stop it. On and on it went, each time eating away at Albus. 

He had never had Vanessa come to his room before. It had been a sudden decision, a decision without thought. He hadn't thought that Minerva would come looking for him, she never usually did. Had he of known...When Minerva saw them, her face had twisted in pain. He'd seen it and as she rushed away and he looked down at the smirking Vanessa, he finally knew what he had risked. It hadn't been worth it. After ordering her out, after declaring that he would never see her again, he had rushed to Minerva, in the hope that her kindness would allow her to forgive him. He might not deserve forgiveness but he had to try- he loved her. He did. 

He hadn't thought that Minerva would leave. He had expected tears and fists and curses but he thought that he might convince her to stay. True, he couldn't promise her that she would be the only one, but in that moment he doubted his strength for he had been weak before. As soon as she left, as soon as the door slammed behind her, he knew that he would never find another woman like her. He didn't want to. He realised his mistake there and then, he realised that he would never want another woman, he could be faithful, if given the chance. But knowing Minerva as he did, he doubted whether she would give him the chance. Perhaps she shouldn't. Perhaps he deserved to live alone from now on but, the thought of being without her broke his heart. He loved her. He needed her. She was the only thing that made life matter. She had to come back, she had to. 

He packed only a few things in the hope that she would come back. Before he went to Aberforth he thought about slipping a letter amongst the things but decided that whatever he might say wouldn't be enough on paper. He would have to wait until she would see him before he could tell her how he felt, however long that may take. 

 


	21. Grace

 

 Poppy kissed her husband and son quickly as she shoved a piece of toast in her mouth. "I don't know how long, I'll be," she said apologetically. 

Aberforth waved his hand. "As long as she is alright," he said kindly. "Me and William have some flying to practice anyway," he smiled at the boy who clapped his hands. "Just let me know."

"Of course," she kissed him a final time and was in the fireplace surrounded by bright green flames within a minute. 

This was the day that Poppy had been waiting for. Finally, after all of this time, Minerva was going to have a baby. Something that she didn't think would ever happen. She had spent the months of Minerva's pregnancy worrying, studying, examining - anything to make sure that everything was going to be okay. She had forced Minerva to eat her dinners, sitting opposite her and nagging her as she did William, for Minerva had lost her appetite in the five months since she had left Albus and was now all but skin and bone, save for the small, neat bump in her front. Lack of sleep and nutrition had affected Minerva in looks and well being but she could not be roused, the poor woman was completely lost and broken.

Minerva had been hiding in her childhood home for five months. She hadn't visited Poppy, who took William to see her when she could, and she hadn't heard or seen anything of Albus. Poppy knew that Minerva would go back to him, despite what he had done to her, but she also knew that the pride that Minerva carried was still within her, for it stopped her from going back to her husband. Poppy was pleased that it had remained, for she would have been saddened if Minerva had crawled back to Albus when it should be he who did the crawling. Despite Poppy's feelings, she wished that Albus would at least write. Seeing what the separation was doing to her dear friend was heartbreaking - she knew that Minerva would be happy with Albus or rather, she needed him, and she wanted to see Minerva back to her old self. She wanted to see a smile at least. She hoped that the baby would bring her happiness but she knew that it would be tainted, for Minerva really wanted Albus. 

Poppy found Minerva sitting quietly on her bed, her glasses perched on her nose as she read a book. She didn't look distressed, which was a good thing, in fact she looked rather peaceful. She didn't expect anything less from Minerva- she was never one to be dramatic. 

"Are you ready?" She asked brightly. 

Minerva rolled her eyes. "I told you that you should come later, the pains aren't too bad yet," she said. 

"I'm here, where else would I be?" 

Minerva shrugged. "I do appreciate it though. They came on in the night and it was a little frightening, I didn't know if it was good or bad," she admitted. "But they've evened out now."

"You're very calm."

Minerva arched a brow. "What did you expect?"

"I'm not sure," Poppy smiled. She rolled up her sleeves and rubbed her hands together. "Let's get started then."

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

"I want, Albus!" Minerva screamed. "Get him! Please!" 

Poppy shook her head. She couldn't leave Minerva to fetch Albus. It was nearly time, the baby was nearly here and Poppy was worried. Minerva had been in labour for sixteen hours, for the most part she had been writhing and groaning in pain. She was pale, her eyes bright with an uneasy pain and she looked as if she might give up at any moment. She had been screaming for Albus for an hour, since the head began to present itself and Poppy wished that she could give Minerva what she wanted but she couldn't- only Albus could have done that and he had failed her. 

Minerva groaned. How could she go on without Albus? Who would have the baby if she died? She felt as if death were creeping up on her. Surely one could not suffer this pain, this twisting agony for this long and live? The pain resembled the pain that she had suffered the night when she had gone to Edinburgh and that made her anxious. That time, the baby was gone, it nearly ruined her life- should the pain feel the same? Should it make her mind swirl with memories that clouded before her eyes? 

She only wanted Albus. She needed him. Oh, where was he? Did he not want them? Had he forgotten them already? She groaned. "I need, Albus." 

"Minerva, I can't leave you," Poppy said quietly, squeezing her hand. She didn't know why Minerva would want such a useless man with her anyway but she bit her tongue- he was her husband after all, even if she didn't like him. "There's no way-"

"Get him, please," Minerva wailed. 

"No, there's no way," Poppy said sharply. "Afterwards-"

"It'll be too late then, get him, Pomfrey!" Minerva barked with some of her usual spirit. "Jesus Christ, you'd think he would be here! Get him!" 

Poppy opened her mouth to speak but her head turned as the door floor open and the Headmaster strode across the room and to Minerva's side. "I'm here," he said, taking her hand. 

Minerva's eyes were wide with shock. She hadn't seen him in five months, hadn't even had a letter and yet here he was. After all this time, he was here. He always came back- he'd come back to her before, she remembered. Would he always come back? She felt sick with happiness until, after a split moment, her stomach churned with worry. "Why are you here?" 

"You need me," he said simply. 

Minerva nodded. He didn't need her. He had only come because she wanted him to. He hadn't wanted to be with her. Suddenly all she could see was a split family, a baby being passed from it's mothers arms to it's fathers as he stood next to his new, shining wife. Weekends alone while their child played with Albus and his new wife; holidays, birthdays, always split, always apart. Was this what her life was going to be? Was she going to be a part of the new, modern family structure? 

She wrenched her hand away and, without looking at him again, put all of her strength into getting the baby out. She pushed and panted when told, she held her breathe, she screamed. She listened to Poppy's every instruction as she worked tirelessly. She didn't question and didn't speak and neither women looked at Albus again. Poppy spoke directly and purposefully to Minerva, never acknowledging Albus's arrival and never telling him anything that was going on. 

On Albus's part, he sat quietly, his eyes watching Minerva's determined face. He knew that there was no way on God's earth that Poppy was going to explain to him what was going on and he wasn't about to ask her, for he dreaded the retort he would get. He was ignorant in the matters of women and babies, but judging by the fact that Aberforth had said that Poppy had been up here all day and all night, he could conclude that it was nearly time. He was grateful that a guilt ridden Aberforth had come to tell him that Minerva was in labour, otherwise he would never have known and he would have missed the birth of his child. 

He hadn't quite got used to the idea of being a father. He had ruled it out for so long that it was a shock that soon he would be wholly responsible for a life. Maybe if he hadn't spent so many months apart from his wife, they would have been able to grown used the idea of becoming parents together. They could have spent the months shopping for things that one needs when one has a child or discussing names or parenting methods. But Albus had robbed them of that and as such they are being thrown into the deep end. 

"Minerva, I need you to concentrate and push down, hard," Poppy nodded at her in encouragement. 

Without question, Minerva did as she said, not relenting until instructed. Albus heard a shrill cry of a child and Minerva fell back against rumpled pillows. Poppy hurried away to the corner and Albus squeezed Minerva's hand gently. "All done now, love," he whispered. 

Her eyes shot open, green and luminous. She pursed her mouth, ready to deliver some tart remark but Poppy came over and gently put the baby in Minerva's arms, beaming at her but still not looking at Albus. "Minerva," she said quietly. "You've got a little girl."

Minerva nodded, unable to speak a word. The child in her hands was beautiful and Minerva hardly dared look at her, it felt so unreal. Her hair was light red, her skin pale and her eyes wide and dark. Minerva lightly touched her cheek and smiled. This baby was hers, her daughter. She was hers, after so long, Minerva could say she had a daughter. She wished that she could share her joy with Albus but she didn't look at him. If she looked at him, she would be reminded of everything that had gone on between them and she wasn't going to think about that. She was quite content to keep gazing her at marvellous baby, for when she looked at her dear little face, she didn't think she could ever feel such happiness again. 

"Minerva..." Albus said softly. 

"Don't, Albus," she whispered. "Don't ruin this moment." 

Truth be told, she was terrified of what he might say to her. She didn't want to know, in that moment, that she no longer had a husband. She didn't want to know that her husband loved another woman. She needed to believe, no matter how folly it was, that she was a part of the family that she had dreamed of since girlhood. 


	22. A Husband and A Wife

Within a day Minerva was up and about, she couldn't tolerate laying in bed all the time. It felt good to stretch her legs, to sit in a chair and to even clean. Albus had stayed with them, quietly and without question, as if he could sense that Minerva didn't want him to leave. She couldn't help but wonder whether he spent his hours thinking of the other woman, or whether he had wrote to her, telling her that he would be home with her soon. She knew that she would just have to resolve herself to the situation, Minerva had left him after all, but it still hurt. She still loved him. She couldn't stop it, God knows that she had tried but she couldn't. She would love him for the rest of her life, just as she had promised to do. 

When the baby was two days old, she still did not have a name. Minerva had one in mind but she knew that Albus should really have a say in it. They should discuss it but Minerva had been putting off having any conversation with him. Once the name was picked she knew that they would have to talk about their situation and she knew that after that, she would be alone forever. But she knew that the child needed naming and that her fate needed sealing and so, as she pulled the door too of her daughter's room, she sighed and marched towards the small sitting room where Albus sat. 

"Are you going to bed?" He asked as she came in. She only spoke to him to say goodnight and good morning. 

"No," Minerva replied as she hurried towards the bureau and began to pour herself a drink. "You?" She lifted the glass to him. 

"No one should drink alone," he smiled awkwardly. 

She nodded. "The baby needs a name," she said matter-of-factly. Her face was cold and stern but inside, her heart was banging and her mouth was dry. She passed him his drink and remained standing. 

"You can choose, my dear," Albus offered. 

She arched a brow. "You don't have anything you would like to input?"

He shook his head. "Her mother should name her."

She nodded slowly. "Eleanor."

Albus smiled. "I thought it might be something along those lines," he said. "Eleanor is lovely."

"Good." She paused, giving him a hard gaze. She quickly finished her drink and began to pour another. It was settled. No doubt he would leave in the morning and so would begin the days of mothering alone before giving the child over for weekend's with her father and his wife. His wife. Perhaps she had never been the wife that he needed- perhaps she was too sarcastic, too practical. Perhaps he wanted a wife that could be seductive with ease and without embarrassment, who could hang on his every word, who could be taught magic that she hardly dreamed of and who could be fashionable and well turned out always. Perhaps, perhaps he wanted a wife who was beautiful, who could turn heads and made men jealous. Perhaps, he wanted a little trophy, befitting his name and reputation. She couldn't imagine that he wanted such things but she couldn't claim to know him very well, that much was clear. She hadn't thought him capable of lying to her so, of betraying her as he had but she had been wrong there. She had been wrong about so many things when it came to Albus. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

Minerva shot him a dark look. "Nothing," she said tightly. She kept her gaze on him, her eyes boring into his. "You may leave when you wish."

"Do you want me to go?" He asked, his eyes clouding with sadness. 

"No doubt you have things...people, waiting for you," Minerva replied. 

His brow furrowed with confusion. "People?"

"Yes, Albus!" She barked. "That woman! How much leave have you before you must go back?" 

"There is no woman," Albus said quickly. 

Minerva shook her head. "Do not take me for a fool, Dumbledore," she spat. "Why else would you never have come? Never even wrote me? You've been busy while I've been trying to mend my heart."

"That isn't why-"

"I'm sure! Because it was only the once wasn't it? You told me yourself that I should expect to see a new woman in your bed every now and again-"

"Would you let me speak?" He shouted. "There is no woman, she's long gone."

"For you, maybe but not for me," Minerva retorted. "She's still here, standing between us. You cannot take it back."

"I can try to make it better," he replied. 

Minerva shook her head. "I don't think you can."

His face dropped. "But you called out for me-"

"Albus," Minerva said softly. "I was distressed, there was a child pushing it's way into the world... I'm myself now and seeing you- seeing you has put it into prospective for me-"

"You can't go," he said. "It isn't possible."

"I've already gone."

"No, I came back here, I thought- Minerva, I made a mistake-"

"What did I do wrong?" She whispered. "I haven't changed from when we first were together. Have you grown tired of my sarcasm? Or my body? Or my heart?"

"I could never be bored of you, Minerva," he said simply. 

"Then why did you do it? I never made you miserable, or at least, I never intended too. I did everything to make you happy, we hardly argue, we spent our evenings together doing as we pleased, I never complained or nagged or moped, why was I not enough, what didn't I do? I need to know, Albus, I need to know what I'm lacking."

"You lack nothing," he said earnestly. "I'm a fool. I couldn't see... I wasn't thinking, Minerva. I didn't know what I had until you left. I thought you would come back and when you didn't I was... lost. I suppose I grew comfortable, I felt so secure in our marriage that I forgot what is was like to live without you. I've lived without you before and those days were painful. I've suffered them again, these past months, and I've lived with the guilt that I thought I had rid of forever. Minerva, I wish you could forgive me, I love you, you'll never be hurt again by me-"

"I don't know," she said. She didn't know. She wanted him, she loved him and she couldn't face the months ahead without him. But he had embarrassed her, betrayed her and hurt her. She didn't know if she could trust him again and she knew that she couldn't live with him if she didn't trust him. She searched his face, a face that she would never forget, no matter how old she grew to live, but at that moment, the baby cried.

"I'll go," Albus smiled sadly at her and fled from the room.

 

The baby. She realised that it wasn't just about her. It was about her daughter, their daughter. If she left Albus, she knew that she would be taking away her daughter's family unit. Albus hadn't known about the baby, he hadn't known that he was ruining a family, rather than a marriage. She couldn't help but wonder if he would have done it had he known that the baby was on it's way. She was sure that he wouldn't of, she was sure that if he had known about the baby he would have been overjoyed and she would never have known about that woman. While he may have seen her beforehand, he would never have risked taking her to the school for Minerva to catch them if he had known about her condition. He would have broken it off with that woman the moment that he knew, she was sure of it. 

Albus came back with Eleanor in his arms. She smiled at the child, still mesmerised and astounded that the little beauty was hers. She went to them and as she reached them and look at Albus, she knew that she had made her decision. 

"She's asleep again," Albus said quietly. 

"Poppy said that newborns tend to do that a lot," she said lightly. "And, judging by your ability to sleep through an apocalypse, she isn't likely to be awake much."

Albus laughed softly. "How very right you are."

"I'm always right," she smirked. She turned her gaze from the baby to Albus. "We are a family now," she said and leaned up to kiss him. "But I will not be one of those women."

"Never," he promised.  

 


	23. Eleanor and her Father

Eleanor Dumbledore, at sixteen, could never be mistaken as anyone else's daughter except Albus. While she had her mothers wit and determination, she was possessed of her father's red hair, straight, long nose and square jaw. She was as charismatic as he, fun loving and full of humour. She didn't take her studies as seriously as Minerva but she had enough intelligence to thrive at her studies, just as Albus had. She made friends easily and people naturally graduated to her, but she had a kind heart and her closest friends could not have a more loyal and understanding companion. 

Because of her namesake, and because her mother had been so close to Ellen Prewitt, her daughter, Molly, was her dearest friend. She was like a sister and had been a part of Eleanor's life since she had been born. Molly spent her Summers with the Dumbledore's, both families as it happened, for she loved Poppy as much as she did Minerva, for they both had tales of her mother. Eleanor herself enjoyed her time with her aunt - Minerva could be quite serious, while Poppy lived life as if it were a great a gift and she enjoyed herself. 

Eleanor loved the fact that Poppy so scandalously disliked Albus and found her snipes and remarks enjoyable. Eleanor loved her father, and so did everyone else it seemed, and so she loved to know that his charm had not worked upon the capable and brusk mediwitch. That Poppy was married to a man who so resembled Albus didn't seem to bother her. Uncle Aberforth was as different as Albus as Poppy was to Minerva and Eleanor loved him as much as she did her aunt. 

The one person that Eleanor could never love more was Albus. From a young age she had been awed by him and strode to make him proud at every opportunity. As much as she loved and admired her mother, she adored her father. She could never remember being angry at him, or let down by him and he would forever remain on a pedestal and had no intentions of pulling him down. He was a busy man, sometimes so busy that she hardly saw him for days, but she always missed him as if she hadn't seen him in all eternity and felt moved to tears when they were reunited, even after so short a time as a few days. 

But as much as she might think him brilliant, she knew that he was as close to catastrophe as she was. While she could not help herself, she was going to help him. She did not want her life altered, torn apart, as it threatened to be and so, after the curfew descended on the castle and the hallways and corridors were eerily quite and cold, she silently made her way to the great bird at the entrance to his office. Whispering the password, she jumped onto the step as the case spiralled towards the great oak door that lead to his office. 

He sat at his desk, Felix perched beside a stack of papers. His quill moved furiously quick as he bent over his work, his idle hand rubbing beneath the birds beak. 

"You're late," she said. 

He looked up and smiled at her, a smile that she knew, could always be brighter than the Sun itself. "Not as long as you, it would seem," he said lightly. "You'll get a detention if you are caught and I'm afraid that I can wriggle you out of it, my dear."

"I've had my fair share of detentions to know that," she laughed as she perched elegantly on the chair opposite. 

"You sit just like your mother," he observed. 

"Beautifully then."

"Yes," he sighed. For a moment he looked forlorn before he beamed at her once more. "To what to I owe this wonderful visit?"

Eleanor shrugged. "I just came to... talk."

He raised his brows. 

"And now you look like my mother," she said. 

He laughed lightly. "I'm not surprised that I haven't picked a few habits up after all these years."

"How many?"

"We've been married nearly eighteen years-"

"Yes, I know that, but how many more was it before that?" She asked daringly. 

"I taught your mother-"

"Everyone knows that. But how many have you loved her?"

He starred at her for a long while. "What do you mean?" He asked finally.

She sat back in her seat, with the same face that Minerva pulled when she was ready for battle. "How long have you loved her?"

He gave her a quizzical look. "Have you been speaking to my dear sister-in-law by any chance?" 

"What you forget, Daddy, is that sometimes I do not need to speak. Children will be children, as you say, and we can hear whatever we want, when a conversation is brought up," she countered. 

"Curiosity killed the cat," he said. 

"Then we must make sure that Mother never become curious," Eleanor retorted, inflated with satisfaction. 

"We must..." he said quietly. He leaned forward. "Now what have you been listening to?"

"You could have been sacked," Eleanor said simply. 

"I could have. But I wasn't."

Eleanor nodded. "You were lucky. Now, tell me, how would you feel if it were my professor that fell in love with me?"

"Professor, man, beast, I would kill him, naturally," he said with a smiling glint in his eye. "No man will ever be good enough for you. You are a Dumbledore after all."

"Do you regret it?"

"No."

Her mouth opened in surprise. She had expected him to say that he wished that he had acted honourably, that he wished that it had never happened. 

"You're surprised," he observed. "Perhaps shocked. But I do not retract my answer. If it had never happened, I wouldn't be lucky enough to have your mother as wife, nor would I have you. Everything happens for a reason, people fall in love and when it's meant to be, it doesn't matter how, or when it happened."

"Would it matter to you who I fall in love with?"

"As long as you are happy," he said. "I just want you to spend the rest of your life happy."

"I will," she said. "If you do not ruin it."

"How would I ruin it?"

"You still see me as a little girl. You still see me as little three year old toddling and laughing and playing, oblivious to the world but I'm not. As a child of the great Albus Dumbledore and the extraordinary Minerva McGonagall I have been blessed with a quick and observant mind. You cannot pull the wool over my eyes anymore," she said. 

"I wouldn't want to do that-"

"No, but you've tried anyway," she said quickly. "Daddy, I love you and so does Mother. Don't ruin that."

"I still don't understand-"

"I don't think I need be any plainer," she quipped. "I have my faults, Mother has hers and you have yours. The difference is, yours will ruin the family. They will break all our hearts. Don't make a mistake, my mother isn't a fool and neither am I. What you forget is Mother loves you for who you are, the others... the others do not. They want you for your glory, for your past. Don't ruin what you have on something so tedious and trivial." 

He nodded. 

She rose, her head high and her eyes cold. "Just don't hurt her, Daddy and I-" she sighed, her own secret, her own shame heavy on her heart. "I will endeavour to do the same."


	24. A Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I am in love with the Harry Potter books, when I set out to write this, I wanted to write what was in my own mind. It is for this reason that the character that appears in the end of this chapter is older than he is in the books. By doing this I hope I have created an interesting twist and haven't upset any readers.

While Eleanor was silent and invisible, she was not a match for her mother. Whether she be a cat or a human, Minerva was light footed, limber and silent. She could hide behind and corner, scurry and crouch; all the while being completely aware of who was around her. Eleanor hadn't quite mastered that and as she crept from her father's stairwell, she had forgotten that her mother could hide in the dark. 

"And just what are you doing out of bed?" Minerva quipped from behind the stone pillar of the gallery. "Just because you are the headmaster's daughter doesn't mean that you can simply bend the rules when you wish!" 

Eleanor smiled. "It does not," she she replied lightly. "But being the frightening Deputy Headmistress's daughter does mean that does mean that I'm not frightened of her," she stood on her toes, for she was not quite as tall as her mother and pecked her cheek. 

Minerva's purse mouth struggled to hide a grin. "Oh, get back to the dormitory before somebody sees you," she patted Eleanor's soft cheek and smiled as she ran away.

Minerva shook her head. She had never imagined that a daughter of hers would be as mischievous as Albus. She had expected a son to be like that but her expectations of Eleanor had been studious, quiet and clever. 

Nevertheless, she was proud of her daughter, and everyday as grateful for being given the chance to be her mother as she had been the day the darling had been born. Since turning fifteen though, Eleanor hadn't been as open as she once had been and the meeting with Albus was just another example of that. Why she couldn't speak to Minerva she didn't know but Minerva shuddered at the dart of jealousy - it wasn't malicious but she felt i, not because she wanted secrets but Albus, but because she wanted to be included in theirs, as a family. 

She sighed as she made her way to Albus's office, her mind heavy with what might be troubling their daughter. She knocked lightly, as usual and forced a smile as she entered. 

Albus's grin at her entrance was not forced. It never had been for he was delighted to see her always. In nearly seventeen years, Minerva hadn't changed at all. She was still slender, graceful, with bright skin and clear green eyes. Her smile was still enchanting, her tongue just as sharpe but Albus never wanted to spend a day without her. He smiled sadly - he felt the guilt flow through him, just as it did sometimes when it caught him unawares, especially when she did something particuarly lovely. She could be very thoughtful, knowing that the little things kept the heart warm. She was truly magnificent and he was completely aware of how awful he really was.

“I’ve seen that face before,” Minerva said softly. “Do not tell me something that I already know and have accepted.”

He furrowed his brow. She was a sharp and intuitive but surely, if she knew why Albus pulled that face she wouldn’t be standing there so calmly. He knew his wife, he knew that she would scream and kick and hiss, all the while throwing curses to destroy the room. She had a temper and she wouldn’t hold it for him.

She smiled - a smile filled with sadness; of acceptance; of empathy. She closed her eyes, relaxed her shoulders. “Perhaps it is better if we leave this unspoken, Albus. Sometimes, it is easier to live with something if it isn’t spoken out loud. Just know that I feel so pain and I give no judgment.”

“But how-“

She raised a hand. “I don’t wish to talk about it,” she flashed a mischievous grin. “And my word is final.”

Albus chuckled. “I’ve always known that, my dear,” he got up from behind his desk and pulled her to him. “Eleanor just left,” he said quietly.

“I know, I saw her,” Minerva replied. “You shouldn’t encourage it, Albus, any other student caught out of bed so late would be punished and you know it.”

Albus shrugged. “How can I help it? I can never be stern with her, she had me wrapped quite tightly around her little finger.”

“I wish I did,” Minerva sighed. “I’ve never quite managed it.”

“But your own hands are wrapped very nicely around my heart,” he smiled and kissed the top of her head. “She’s a very clever girl, we don’t give her much credit for it.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “We’ve always known she bright, what you are referring to is her ability to-“She stopped at the banging of the door and Filch’s shouts from behind it. “That man! He couldn’t be quiet if his life depended on it - anyone would think that the world was ending the way that he carries on! Let him in, for God sake, he’ll have the whole castle up next!” She moved swiftly towards the window as Albus opened the door. She tried to keep a good distance between her and the caretaker - he was insufferable and she couldn’t help but notice the way he gawped at her. It was surprising; his father had been a particularly refined gentleman who had been doted upon by her own mother.

“Argus, do come in,” Albus said amiably. “It must be something terrible if - Ah, Eleanor.”

Eleanor came in behind the shuffling man, her head held high in defiance, the same exasperated look on her face that Minerva often sported.

“Out of bed, Headmaster-“ Filch said with glee.

“I know, I asked her to my office,” Albus said with a friendly smile. “You will forgive me, I should have walked her back myself. I asked for her to come, I’ve been so busy recently that I hadn’t been able to catch up-“

“You should have walked her,” Filch agreed. “You should of, I didn’t just catch her. She was with someone. Dressed in black, all over, looked like death walking the corridors. I tried to catch him - no doubt a student thinking he could outwit me in the darkness but he ran to quick. But then, he was shaped more like a man. She swears she doesn’t know who I’m talking about, which makes me think that maybe he was following her-“

Minerva turned cold. Who was following her? Why? Why would anybody follow her? How could a man get into the castle? The Professor’s were asleep and they would have made their presence know once Filch had cried out. “Where did this figure go, Argus? Show me, I’ll try to catch him up, before he leaves the grounds-“

“There was nobody there!” Eleanor cried. “No man was following me, don’t you think I would know?”

“I saw him! I saw him!” Filch literally jumped on the spot. His face was red with excitement. “Was he dangerous? Should I sound the alarm?”

Eleanor opened her mouth to speak again but Albus lifted a commanding hand. “Thank you, Argus,” he said quietly. “I am sure that the castle is quite safe. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with my daughter about how she shouldn’t skulk the corridors so late at night.”

Argus could hardly hide his triumph as he nodded and shuffled from the room. Albus locked the door behind him.

“Come and sit down,” Albus said, marching towards his seat.

“Daddy, listen-“

“Sit down,” Minerva hissed from behind her. She was filled with terror - would she be able to keep her daughter safe? “You forget that I won’t be fooled.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. Minerva pointed her wand and the girl flew to the seat as Minerva walked past her and stood behind the desk. She smiled ruefully as Eleanor scowled at her with her own dark green eyes.

“You cannot walk around this castle unescorted any longer,” Albus said darkly. “I didn’t say in front of Argus in case he had a panic attack but we do not know who this man was. He certainly knew who you were and until we know what is going on, I will not have you alone, anywhere. Your mother and I will escort you to and from lessons; you will be in your dormitory straight after dinner and there will be no more trips to Hogsmeade. Your mother cannot pay you enough attention along with the other students so you will remain here-“

“You are being ridiculous - there was nobody following me!”

“Hold your tongue,” Minerva shouted. “Don’t you understand that your life is at risk? I didn’t bear you, feed you, cloth you, love you to lose you just because you will not do as you are told-“

“Mother-“

“I told you to be quiet!” Minerva said icily.

“I am not your student,” Eleanor hissed, her eyes blazing darkly.

“No, you are my daughter, and my temper cannot be curbed when it comes to you,” Minerva said. “You will do as we say or you will be packed off home and shut up there with me,” she threatened.

“There was no man!” Eleanor cried desperately. “Who would follow me?”

With a pale face, Albus sighed. “We all know of the growing darkness,” he said quietly. “More and more people bare the mark. Our friends are dying; magical orphanage’s are filled with lost, terrified children. He is coming, he will find us. Riddle is coming for all of us and we must be ready. But I cannot prepare all the while I am worrying about you,” he smiled at her. “You have to help me, you are no longer a child, my dear.”

“You still treat me like one,” she said sulkily. “ You are going overboard. Riddle hasn’t got anywhere near me and nor will he. It wasn’t Riddle in the corridor, it wasn’t any of his followers-“

“Then who was it?” Minerva demanded.

“Why can’t you just leave things alone?”

Minerva sighed. If this had been a student she could threaten to write home, to expel and to punish but she couldn’t with Eleanor. Minerva was the teacher and the parent and it was so hard to separate the two. She loved her daughter, much more than she could have imagined herself loving a child - it was consuming, it filled her blood. She would fight to the death to keep Eleanor safe. How could she think her safety so trivial a thing? Didn’t Eleanor know that she was the most precious thing to ever walk the Earth and that without her, the Sun would never rise again?

“I’m sorry,” Albus whispered. “But I have to do this. I couldn’t keep your mother safe once before, but I will keep you safe. Even if I have to lock you in here for the rest of your life.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Eleanor shook her head, tears pouring down her face. “You can’t keep me locked up, there was nobody there,” she choked.

“Your father has no choice,” Minerva said sharply. She straightened her back, her face stern. Her heart was melting but she would never back down.

“You don’t understand, you can’t!” Eleanor wailed. “There was nobody there, I am safe I’m always safe when-“ She quickly covered her mouth.

“When what?” Albus shot up from his seat, a look on his face that Minerva hadn’t seen since -

“Albus, sit back down,” Minerva said as she hurried to Eleanor. “You will say something that you will regret,” he nodded knowingly as she knelt down. “Eleanor, darling,” she said quietly, her hand stroking the girls red hair. “We just want to keep you safe. That is much more important than anything in the world. You are much more important than anything in the world. Your father, he is worried sick and likely to combust if you don’t tell us who you were with. You say it was nobody sinister, I believe you. Who was it?” She asked softly. “A boyfriend? While your father will never like any young man you bring home, I will always be ready to give the benefit of the doubt, hmm?” She smiled. “Come now, Eleanor, who is he? Weasley? Potter? Diggory?”

Eleanor laughed pitifully. “If only,” she said. “I can’t tell you, just know-“

“None of it is her fault!”

Minerva jumped and Albus swore as a body, clad in black stumbled through the door.

“Don’t punish her!”

Albus stood, his mouth gaped open. Minerva rose slowly, elegantly. Her wind was whirling, twisting and bouncing but as she looked down at Eleanor’s guilt ridden face and then onto the urgent face in the doorway, she suddenly knew. Her hand flew to her wand, a dark purple hex erupting from it within a split second but Eleanor jumped quicker, knocking Minerva to the ground. Her spell hit the wall as she fell, spluttering, to the ground. “Albus, kill him,” she seethed. “Snape is the man who has followed her - Snape is the man that she cannot tell us about.”


	25. No Ordinary Heart

In a moment, as Minerva pulled herself to her feet, Albus flew towards Snape, who stood poised ready to fight. With a groan, Minerva heaved herself onto her husband, dragging him from his path. "Albus, do not forget yourself!" She shrieked. 

"You hardly showed self control," Albus retorted. 

"But you are intent on killing him, I merely wished to wound him," she said. She met his gaze and slowly took his wand from his hand, squeezing it as she did. "Albus, you must try-" 

"Try!" He thundered. "Try what? He, this, this bastard, has been - she is a child! A damn child!"

With all her strength she held him, held him down against the cold floor. "Albus, if you continue to fight me I will have to put you in a binding spell," she warned. She leant down and whispered in his ear. "Don't drive her into his arms." 

He nodded slowly and began to get up. He smoothed his robes and held out is hand to help Minerva. As she stood and gave him back his wand, he twisted and aimed it at Eleanor. "Sit down," he said. "Or so help me, this man here will be a poxy roach by the time you've blinked." 

Head down, she scurried to the seat and sat on it, hardly breathing. She didn't look up. 

Minerva, her face like thunder, wandered towards the man whom she had never quite trusted. He stood puffed up, arrogant and defiant. She remembered when he had been a boy and one shooting look could make him quake. "Severus," she hissed. 

"Minerva-"

"I'll warn you, Severus," she said. "He," she pointed her wand at Albus. "Is restrained under my orders. One wrong move and by God, I'll let him lose."

Severus hid a smirk but Minerva was quick enough to notice the slight upturning of his lips. She would have said something but she needed to think. She looked at her husband. He stood slightly bewildered, his merry blue eyes searing with hatred and pain. She felt it, she wanted to wring the neck before her, to punish him for thinking that it was acceptable to take her daughter to his bed. She would have, if not for the quiet, terrified sobs that came from the hanging head in the corner. Minerva looked at her daughter, who looked utterly broken and lost. Her body was bent, her face twisted, just as Minerva's had been when Albus had broken her heart. The resemblance was slightly disturbing and all of a sudden her heart pierced her chest, taking her breathe away. She glanced at Severus, who looked as if he might break for looking at Eleanor in such despair and her taste for blood vanished. 

"Tell me, Severus," she sighed, utterly defeated. "Tell me that you love her for her and not for the glory of her blood." 

Severus looked astounded but couldn't speak for Albus bellowed. "For what else is there but the glory of her blood? Look at his arm, Minerva, look! I know what is there and I do not doubt that you do! Do you know?" He turned to Eleanor. "Do you know what is engraved in his arm, what he lives for? Have you seen it move as it burns his flesh? Tell me, does that excite you? Do you long to see, to touch, to smell the blood of our world smeared along these walls? You will answer me!" 

Suddenly, Eleanor's face flashed with anger as she jumped to her feet, her pale fists clenched. "For nobody could love me for anything but my blood? Is that what you mean? Be honest, if I brought home a boy my age you would still say that he wanted me because of who you are! Who my mother is! Let me tell you, I love him-"

Albus scoffed. "What can a child know about love?" He questioned spitefully. 

"Because you are so much better! Need I remind you that you, yes you, Daddy, you sent my mother to a butcher when she was the same age as me!" She shouted. 

Minerva paled. "No," she gasped. Her daughter could not know that. How had she found out? Minerva had planned on keeping that from her for the rest of her life but it seemed somebody had thought other wise. By the look of shame that clung to Albus's face, she knew that it wasn't him. 

"It wasn't like that," Albus whispered. 

"I believe it was," Eleanor said defiantly. "My mother fell into your arms when she was my age and you let her. When she came to you, the one she needed, the one who should have guided her, you threw her to the gutter. You blamed her! What were your words again? What? Ah yes, 'Did you do this on purpose?' All my life, I have been told that I am a miracle child, never really knowing why. But now I understand. That night, when you turned your back, Mother did the unthinkable. And when it was all over, when she was given the blow that would thrash her world, when the blood of my sibling had barely been washed from her skin, you left her. Tell me it was different." 

Albus closed his eyes and hung his head. Now would have been the time for Minerva to defend him but she couldn't. Eleanor spoke the harsh and painful truth, a truth unaltered, untwisted. Every word she spoke could not be contradicted and Minerva hadn't the heart to try to. While she had never intended on telling her daughter anything about what had happened, she wash't going to lie about it. Though her heart filled with guilt as she looked upon the face of her dear husband, she was no liar and did not intend to be. 

"It was not different," Minerva answered for him in a clear voice. His eyes reached her, full of both thanks and pleading. 

"Then, you, Daddy, cannot question me, or him. We are the same as you two, only, we will not make as many mistakes," she turned away from him and with tears in her eyes, she sobbed to Minerva. "I never meant to hurt you, Mother. I know what your life has been and wish to bring now more burdens to your shoulders. I am sorry that you have found out, I'm sorry to let you down, I never wished for it. I'm still your little girl, I am, I am but I've just fallen in love. I would wish for it to be simpler, as no doubt you did, but I cannot help to whom my heart belongs." 

"No," Minerva shook her head. "You cannot." 

"I never thought you'd let me down, Daddy," She said. "I always thought that I would be able to rely on you-"

"Yes, well," Albus said coldly. "I never thought anything like this would happen." 

"Albus!" Minerva cried. "You are not going to let it all finish like this are you? You haven't a leg to stand on-"

"As long as I am her father I do," he growled. "She is a fool. Severus belongs to one person only and this person will not share him with another. Riddle shares nothing. And what will happen when Riddle finds out about her? Hmm? What will you do to keep my daughter safe, Severus?" 

"Riddle will never find out," Eleanor interjected. 

Albus laughed. "For one that listens so intently to the conversations between her aunt and uncle, she does not listen to the exchanges between her mother and father. Riddle knows everything. He can invade minds, control the dead, torture's the sane into madness. What do you think he will do when he finds out that his squire's heart belongs to a girl? What will he do when he finds out that this girl is none other than a Dumbledore?"

"Severus would never tell!" 

"He doesn't need to tell!" Albus shouted. "He doesn't need permission to enter a mind, he doesn't need all of that! When he finds out who you are, what you look like-"

"Enough, Albus," Minerva said. "We all know what Riddle can do." She turned to Snape. "Do you have the mark?" 

Severus pursed his lips. "I have," he said, his voice low. "A foolish mistake that I cannot go back on."

Minerva nodded slowly. He had the mark. He was bound to his master for the rest of his life. There was no way that Riddle was going to let a Dumbledore be left unscathed, no matter who they might be connected to. As soon as he found out about Eleanor, he would use her to ruin Albus and Minerva, to kill them both but not before they suffered the death of their daughter. Minerva looked at the young face of the life she had brought into this world- the bright, intelligent , beautiful face that kept the depths of her heart filled with light. She imagined the world if Eleanor were to leave it and all she could see was darkness and pain. She couldn't imagine her life without those bright eyes, that determined jaw, the alabaster skin- 

Minerva gasped. Her husband was a skilful man. He could alter memories that could fool even Riddle. And Eleanor had the same face, the same body as herself, it was only the hair that would need changing. Albus could do that. Albus could venture into his mind and alter anything he wanted. He could make Riddle see what he wanted to see. 

"Albus," she said. "There is no other way. They have both begun a path that cannot be changed. What we can do is the only thing that will keep our daughter safe," she looked at the three faces that stared so intently upon her. "Albus, you must alter Snape's memories. You must turn every memory including Eleanor into one that includes me. Snape will know it's Eleanor, I will know it's Eleanor but Riddle will not. That way, should Riddle invade his mind, he will see me and come after me. Eleanor will be safe." 

"No," Albus said adamantly. "I can't do that."

"It's the only way," Minerva pleaded. "It's the only way to keep her from harm. We must." 

"So Severus will see you, instead of me?" Eleanor asked, her eyes flashing with pain. 

Minerva shook her head. "No. There is a way, a very difficult way to do this so that Snape can see the truth, because he knows the truth. Others, who can only trust what they see, will see what your father puts there. If Snape uses those memories every time he thinks of you, if only for a moment, each new memory will be disguised to be me." 

"And you can do that, Daddy?" 

Albus nodded. "I can," he replied. "There are things that I have learnt that could change the world and that is why I am so terrified that Riddle might learn them also. If I did this, it would put your mother in the greatest danger. When he finds out, when he see's her with  _him_ ," Albus sneered, "he will come after her. He will revel in the thought of using her to get to me and once he has, he'll think he's broke my heart before he kills us both." He looked at his daughter, who he so deeply loved. "While I don't doubt your intentions, while I know that your feelings are sincere, can I trust the one to whom you have given your heart?"

Snape stepped forward, his right arm brushing against Eleanor's. "I would do anything to keep her safe," he said. "I would die to keep her safe." 

"Then why did you begin this, why did you allow this to happen when you knew-"

"Why did you?" Snape questioned. 

Albus looked at Minerva, who stood determined. "Because I love her," Albus admitted. "I'll do it, but I must warn you, Severus, that should you betray either of them, you will have more to fear from me than you ever would from Riddle." 

Snape nodded. "I am ready." 

"I wish to talk to my wife for a moment," Albus said, holding his hand out to Minerva. "Please, come with me," he smiled and lead her through the door to their sitting room. 

It was strange. It smelled the same, the same pot of tea sat on the coffee table; the same heavy drapes hung at the walls and yet, not for the first time, their world had changed completely. They had become accustomed to a bliss that they had so bitterly fought for that they had forgotten what tribulations could be like. They have steered through the bitterness of life, shaken off grief and torn away regret and yet they were back in the same place, the same room filled with the same desperation. 

With a heavy sigh, Minerva felt against his chest. She was weary; weary from all the fighting; weary from the fear of losing Eleanor. Never before had Eleanor's life seemed so delicate - it's thread was pulled out and the seams were beginning to fray. While Minerva had cherished her, she now realised that she had taken her life for granted. Whilst she had accepted Eleanor's coming as a miracle, Minerva realised that she had expected her to always to there once she had come. Minerva now knew that wasn't so. Eleanor's precious existence relied on three people; herself, her broken husband and a man who bore the mark of their enemy. 

A man. Their daughter was in love with a man. With the time of take stock of that, Minerva realised what a heavy blow that was. When she looked at Eleanor, she saw a little girl; when she looked at Snape, she saw a grown man. She was being hypocritical, she knew, for many years ago, at the same point in her life as Eleanor was now, Minerva would make a child with her professor within a few weeks. But Minerva had lived that life, Minerva had lived in secret and felt the bitterness of reality and she didn't want that for her daughter. She wanted Eleanor's heart to remain in one piece for all of time but Minerva was not the keeper of it. She could not stop the outside world from shredding it. That was the hardest thing to accept - the absolute certainty that Eleanor would feel the same pain as Minerva had at least once in her life time. 

While the odds had been stacked against her and Albus, Eleanor and Snape were trying to push through four stone walls. Pushing aside the age gap, the student/teacher relationship, they would have to fight more than Minerva and Albus had ever dreamed of. Their world had never been as dark or as dangerous - Grindewald had only been making ripples and by the time he could have made an impact, Albus had left to fight him. But her daughter and her daughter's lover were fighting against the devil himself. It would test their love, their trust as well as their own characters. It would take them, along with herself and Albus, everything they had to fool the man that could not be fooled. 

Minerva knew that she would be fighting for the rest of her life. 

"My dear," Albus whispered as he kissed the top of her head firmly. "While I have never doubted that you would give your life for our child, I never expected you to have to make the choice. If I do this, then we cannot go back. When the time come, you must be ready for it."

"I know," she said. "But Eleanor is the most important thing in the world and I will die a content woman knowing that I have done all I can to protect her. I would do the same for you. I love you both, uncontrollably." 

Albus pulled her chin upwards and kissed her urgently. "You are extraordinary," he said. "There is not a flicker of fear in your mesmerising eyes. To love somebody so much that all fear of death and pain is put aside is... it is rare. You are possessed of no ordinary heart, Minerva, and for that I love you and worship you." 

She pulled him to her, clutching onto him as if this were the moment that she would be forced to say goodbye. She felt the urgency, the need, the grief and loss. She felt the love around her, the drive and passion that she had always felt. It formed around her, shaping their bodies and cradling them. If love were a substance, if it were an object that could be held in one's hand, it would be impenetrable. 

"Minerva, I'm a little apprehensive of what I must do," Albus said quietly. 

"It is the only thing to keep her safe-"

"Oh, I know and I am willing to do it for that reason. But, my dear," he turned a little pink. "I will have to cover every memory that Severus has."

Minerva's eyes widened with realisation. "You don't suppose-"

Albus cocked a brow. "She is my baby and while I see her incapable of such things, I also know that I am a fool." 

"Oh, Albus," Minerva patted his arm. "What to do?"

"It must be done but it doesn't seem..."

"Right, I quite agree," Minerva said. "I would certainly not what my father to witness, well, witness our relationship in all it's glory," Minerva smirked. 

"It's hardly the time to be funny," Albus said, shuffling slightly and his face turning red. 

"There is no point in getting embarrassed yet," Minerva said pointedly. "First we must ask if... if we are likely to come across anything that no parent should see. Now, if they are to answer how we would have been forced to as this point, it's seems unseemly for you to... see our daughter like that. I will do it." 

"Really, Minerva?" 

"Do you question my abilities?" Minerva arched a brow. 

"Never, but surely you don't-"

"Of course not, but I just think, better for me than for you, agreed?" 

Albus nodded. "Let's go and ask the damn question." 

When they returned to the office, they found them both seated in front of the fire, scarcely touching, staring at the flames. 

Minerva coughed and concealing the embarrassment that she felt, did the thing that came most naturally to her and got straight to the point. "We have to ask, for if you answer as I think you will, I will change the memories, have the two of you..engaged in-"

"Mother!" Eleanor cried as Snape looked to the floor. 

"We have to know in order-"

"No!" Snape said. "I would never-"

"What he is saying is that we love each other, we do not lust," Eleanor replied. "Severus is a gentleman." 

Albus nodded while Minerva gave her usual questioning look. "Then sit, if you will, Severus," Albus said. "Now, you must know, invasion can be painful. It's easier if you let me, try not to fight." 

Snape nodded and Albus lifted his wand. 

Minerva and Eleanor watched together. Snape didn't moved and Albus only moved his mouth. Snape's fists clenched as the will to fight became powerful, his face twisted a little and Eleanor cried out. Minerva grabbed her thin hand and squeezed it, "Try to stay quiet," she whispered. "With no disturbances, it will not take long." 

Minerva held her daughter's hand for the rest of the time, her gaze on her husband. His face was filled with determination when he started but as he ventured further and further into the mind of Snape, his face softened. His blue eyes filled with understanding and as Albus relented, and lowered his wand, tears were swimming in his eyes. 

"You love her," Albus said hoarsely. 

Snape nodded. "More than my life." 

Albus swallowed before he turned to the two women. "It is done. Should Riddle try to look, he will see the dark hair of Minerva," he stood and tapped Snape on the shoulder. "I am sorry I doubted you." 

When he reached Minerva, he pulled her to him fiercely. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "What did you see?" 

"We were wrong," Albus replied. "We were both wrong. But I cannot tell you what I saw, it should never have been shared with me. They are for Severus and Eleanor alone." 

A lump rose in Minerva's throat as the love she felt for the man who held her threatened to knock the air from her again. "Albus, my darling, you are remarkable." 

"No, my dear," he said. "You are what makes me remarkable." 


	26. Truths

Minerva stopped at the door. Her heart was beating wildly and her mouth was dry. She was glad the dungeons were empty- people might question why she was visiting Snape in his dark office when all she had ever shown him was coldness. 

She should have been speaking to Eleanor but she hadn't gathered enough courage for that just yet. It would be easier to speak to somebody for whom she felt indifference rather than somebody she loved. She could have left it to Albus to speak with him but then she knew she wouldn't get any answers. He would brood over it and tell her snippets, to save her own sanity. 

She closed her eyes as she tapped on the door. Her stomach flipped as she considered what she might say. Thankfully, he called out quickly and she hadn't time to consider it - into the lions den she went, armed only with wit and grace. 

Snape sat behind his desk, his long body erect and his pale face stern. She realised that she had never seen him smile, not once, and she wondered what her daughter, who always smiled and laughed, saw in him. His office was dark and windowless. Candles lined the grim walls and flickered murky light. Snape's desk was small and simple, neadly ordered and without any personal effects, there was nothing that could reveal his likes, his personality.It was cold and Minerva felt a slight shiver, Snape however, seemed unpreturbed by it and sat with out a fire or jacket of any kind. It was nothing like Albus's office, which was welcomin, full of trinkets and never with an empty hearth.  

"Minerva," he said dryly. "Another mishap with my house?"

"I am quite capable of sorting those incidents myself," she barked. "May I sit?" 

He nodded and watched as she gracefully perched on the edge of the high backed chair. She knotted her hands in her lap. 

"What can I do for you?" 

She shook her head. "I'm not quite sure," she said slowly. "I haven't spoken to my daughter yet-" 

"We didn't want it to happen like it did last night," he replied quickly. "She was very concerned about you." 

Minerva cocked an eyebrow. He was telling her what her daughter felt? Did he think he knew her better than she did? She wanted to quip something back but knew that, in fact, he probably did know Eleanor better than Minerva did. 

Instead she shuffled in her seat. "Severus, I need to know. That... Thing, on your arm..."

"It will always be there-"

"I know the theory of it!" She remarked tartly. "What I want know is while you may be bound to it, are you loyal to it?" 

He seemed surprised by her question. "Of course not-"

"Then when did the loyalty end?" 

"I - the hate. The endless hate. I felt it begin to turn my soul and I didn't want that. I've never wanted to hate," he said. 

"Then why join at all?" 

"He doesn't really give you a choice, once he wants you," he said darkly. 

Minerva nodded, wondering if she would have the courage to defy the man. She liked to think that she would. "Can you keep her safe?" 

"I would do everything within my power," he answered earnestly. "As Albus would for you." He paused for a moment, his face twisting slightly with guilt. "I cannot promise that you will be safe." 

"I don't need that promise," she said indifferently. "I'm not a fool." 

"I know more about the Dark Lord than you could ever imagine," he continued. "Everything he does is driven by his hatred of Dumbledore. He knows that Albus is the one person that stands between him and ruling the world. He knows that you are the key. He also knows that as long as he trusts and loves you, The Dark Lord won't be able to touch you. Once he reads my mind, once he sees you, there will be stopping him.And Minerva, he will read my mind. He will come after you."

Minerva pursed her lips. She suspected that he expected her to be frightened but he didn't know what a mother's love was. How could he? She knew what was to come, she understood the inevitable. She also knew that she wasn't scared. As long as Eleanor was safe, Minerva would suffer anything. She rememered when she had followed Albus into the cold forest when he had gone after Grindelwald. She hadn't been scared then, once she had arrived there. Her love and determination that Albus had been safe was like a powerful driving force within her and her love for her husband was nothing compared to the love she felt for her daughter. Eleanor was the sun, the dawn, she was time itself. She was Minerva's own flesh, blood and bone. Minerva had created and moulded that soul, Minerva had given her life. She hadn't done that for anything. She would protect Eleanor at all costs, even if she had to destory the world they knew to accomplish it. No, she wasn't scared. Let Voldemort, Riddle, whoever, whatever he was come.Let him torture her, kill her it didn't matter. Minerva would win, for Eleanor would be safe.

"Let him come," Minerva said finally.

A look of admiration swept across his long face. "Yes," he said dryly.

Minerva shifted in her seat, crossing one long leg elegantly over the other. "I'm afraid the storm has not passed," she said, with a wry smile. The air had grown too think and so she caste a light in the darkness. "Albus is after your blood. Hipocrosy has not seemed to cross his mind."

"i have been honourable in everything!" Snape delcared hotly.

Minerva raised a thin hand. "I know this, and so does Albus. That doesn't change the fact that Eleanor is our daughter-"

"You were somebody's daughter," he interjected.

Minerva's words caught in her throat. Had she been somebody's daughter? She remember when she had first kissed Albus, that awful night when she had been told about her father's death. She sighed as she realised that she hadn't thought about her dear dad in many years. From the moment she read the cold words in her mother's elegant hand, she had felt as if she was an orphan. From that moment on, she hadn't regarded herself as anyone's daughter, for she hardly thought of her mother as a mother at all and she was sure that her mother had not seen Minerva as a daughter. She had forever been a let down, she was too loyal to her father.

"Perhaps," she replied. "But that doesn't change anything for the Headmaster."

"Well, I've certainly behaved better than he did, better than he does," Snape said defiantly.

Minerva couldn't help but blush. It was embarrassing that he knew the ins and outs of her marriage. She wished that Eleanor herself didn't know. It was all Poppy's fault, what right had she to gossip, even if it was to Aberforth? She held back her anger, she would deal with Poppy once this was done.

"It doesn't matter what Albus has done," She said tightly. "Just know," she stood up to leave. "That at the moment, he is hardly a friend of yours."

Snape nodded. "I understand."

"Yes, well, good evening, Severus," She said. "Let me know if there are any complications," she nodded and left the room quickly.

 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 Minerva was glad of the walk down to Poppy's. The dungeon may have been cold but it was airless and suffocating. She breathed in the crisp air as strode down the winding path, wrapped in a thick woolen cloak, warm black hat and leather gloves. The sky was dark and tinged slightly pink. Snow was coming. She concluded that by the morning the grounds would be covered and she would spend her day barking at students as they charmed their snowballs. It usually worked until Albus joined in the snow fights and then she would have to give up. He could be such a child.

She reached the edge of Hogsmeade and Poppy's neat cottage came to view. They had moved from the pub when William turned four. Poppy had grown tired of living in three smalls rooms above the bar and so Aberforth had reluctantly moved his home from his work. It was a beautiful cottage, the kind of sweet, welcoming home that Minerva had often dreamed of living in. But Minerva had more than she could ever have imagined and she was grateful for her rooms in the school that she shared with her family.

The sight of Poppy's shadow in the kitchen window began to boil Minerva's blood again and she marched up the frosty path, slamming the wooden gate behind her. With a tight fist, she banged on the door and tapped her foot impatiently.

Aberforth smiled warmly at her as he stood in the doorway. "Why, Minerva, it's late-"

"Where is she?" Minerva all but snarled.

By the look of his face, he had been waiting for such a moment and stood dutifully aside.

"Pomfrey!" She cried shrilly, tearing her way through the house to the kitchen.

"Minerva-" Poppy's smiled vanished when she saw Minerva's face. "Do I need my wand?" She asked.

"A wand will do you no good!" Minerva bellowed. "I'll rip your tongue out myself, it seems to be loose enough!"

"Don't blame me for your problems! He made the bed that you lye in-"

"That is my own damn affair!" Minerva countered, her fists clenched into little white balls. "Your opinion doesn't matter, although that might pain you to hear it! It hasn't mattered in a long time, isn't that obvious?"

"My opinion is the truth," Poppy spat, her round face dark. "And that is why you cannot stand it. You have to accept that you do not lead a life that others want-"

"oh, I've heard it all before," Minerva waved her hand. "I don't care what you think, i don't care what you say about me. What I care about is my daughter over hearing!"

"It's not my fault that you keep secrets from her," Poppy retorted.

Minerva's eyes widened further. "Secrets! Forgive me if I do not wish to paint her father in a bad light! She idolises him and I see no reason why she shouldn't. He is a wonderful father! What happened before, she doesn't need to know. Should I go and tell William about the dozens of men who you courted? Shall i tell him that before Aberforth you went through men as if they were going out of fashion. I may have been sleeping with my professor, I may have gotten rid of my child but it is pure luck, Pomfrey, that you didn't find yourself in such a position. At least my child was concieved in love, any you might have had at point would have been through lust alone!"

Poppy turned red. "William shouldn't-"

"I would never, you see, I understand that. it is your hatred of Albus that drives you to be viscious, but i love him. I don't care what he does, what he says, he's my husband and that's my choice. You shouldn't punish me, or Eleanor for his faults. They are mine to accept and move on from!"

"Don't you understand?" Poppy bellowed, her jaw determined. "That man has ruined you? Where is my determined, stubborn friend that I met all those years ago? he slept with you, threw you aside and took all of your drive with him. You didn't become an auror, you didn't even work for the damn ministry. You could have been the bloody Minsiter, you've got the talent! Instead you shut yourself away in a grotty flat, writing columns for a newspaper you never read. You were like the walking dead for six years, Minerva, and Ellen and I, we hated to see you suffer. I tried to accept Albus when he married you, tried to accept that it was some shitty mess before, because you was so happy. It was when he slept with that woma, it was when he continued to sleep with anything with a pulse. Your spirit has gone and yes, yes I hate him for that. Eleanor should know what her father is-"

"What her father is," Minerva said, her voice dangerously low. "Is kind, loving, trusting. He is everything that all I've ever wanted, more than i deserve."

"i didn't think that you had such a low opinion of yourself," Poppy said.

Minerva saw red. With a hoarse grown, she launched forward, intent on grabbing her but somthing pulled her back. She turned, ready to go for Aberforth but gasped when she saw Albus. "Let go of me," she said through cleched teeth.

He only pulled her tighter to him. "Minerva, don't forget yourself. Don't forget who Poppy is-"

"Did you hear what she said about you?"

Albus closed his eyes and nodded, whispering, "She told you the truth."

She searched his face. "I can't believe that you think that," she said. She lifted a hand and cupped his cheek. "I know you, Albus Dumbledore. I know your heart better than you do. Don't belive what she says, she's a sham, hiding behind our faults."

He shook his head. "She is your friend," he said calmly.

She nodded, remembering what Poppy was to her. She had been there through everythin, she loved her. But she couldn't forgive everything that she had said. "Poppy, did you know about Eleanor and Snape?"

Poppy bit her lip. "She told me because-"

"Damn you," Minerva snarled and marched from the house, forgetting to bring Albus with her.

 


	27. Redemption

Albus remained in the kitchen, stood between Poppy and his brother. Was that it? Was it over? He had never dreamed that Minerva would walk out on Poppy and he was rather dumbfounded. 

Poppy stood, her mouth slightly open and her eyes steely. Her round face was torn between grief and anger. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes. "That's it then," she said quietly. 

"It can't be," Albus muttered. 

Her eyes shot open, staring at him with malice and hate. "You've won, Dumbledore," she hissed. "It's taken you a long time but you have finally come between us." 

Albus furrowed his brow. "I don't understand, I have never-" 

"You!" She shrieked. "You've poisoned her mind! She cannot see what is in front of her!" 

Albus shook his head. "You are wrong," he said cooly. "You have always hated me. I don't feel the same towards you. All I want is for Minerva to be happy and you were a part of that. I would never want you gone."

"Why do you have to lie all of the time?" She asked. "You try to make people see you as the victim. The honourable gentleman, but tell me, headmaster, when have you ever been honourable?" 

He stood, silent and dazed. He questioned himself, when had he ever been honourable? He had kissed Minerva first, he had let her love him. He hadn't tried hard enough to keep them apart and within weeks he allowed them to love because that was what he wanted, not what was right. He had thrown Minerva away when she had been pregnant, he had taken her youth, her hunger for life away. 

He hadn't given her the chance to make a life. He had come crashing into it at the christening, just because his own heart ached for her. He hadn't stopped to think what Minerva might want, or more to the point, need. 

"You know," Poppy said without accusation. She moved towards him, searching his face. "You know what you have done." 

Albus sighed. "How can I fix this?" He asked hoarsely, for he felt he knew. 

She touched his arm gently. "Set her free." 

 

******************************

Minerva marched into the sitting room, slamming the door behind her. In the cold darkness she wasn't sure whether to cry or tear the room apart. 

Without a word, she set the fire ablaze and with a sharpe flick of the wand levitated a full decanter and tumbler to her. She poured herself a hearty glass and quickly knocked it down her throat. It took her breathe away and she had to wait a few moments to catch it again before repeating the process. 

In her fury, she hadn't noticed that Albus hadn't followed her until he heard him softly close the door behind him and whisper as he came in, "Minerva." 

She felt her legs shake as she turned to him. His face was grey and his usually merry blue eyes were glazed with grief. "What's wrong?" She squeaked through a constricted throat. She had seen that face before but it seemed like an age ago, in another life that was hazy and grey. She searched her memories and gasped when she came upon it. 

She had seen that face as he sat with a hanging head at her bedside, as he told her of the life they could have had. She shook her head, "Albus, tell me-"

He held up his hand. "Minerva, I," he let out a long breathe. "I have come to make this right. You see, my dear," he kept his eyes on the floor. One look at her beautiful face and his resolve would leave him. His heart threatens to fall to the ground, like a dead weight as he said dully, "I cannot remain in this state. We have nothing else to give to each other."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, no, no, no! Don't say it, don't even think it-"

"But I have thought about it," he said. "And I've made my decision." 

"No," she repeated, her skin flusing cold, her mouth dry. "Is this because of Poppy? Well she knows nothing, God damn it, I love you Albus!" 

He shook his head. "Don't tempt me, don't-" 

She lurched forward and grabbed his shoulders tightly. On her toes, she searched for his mouth with hers. When he pulled his face away, she squeezed tighter, forcing him to look at her. "I won't let you go," she said through her teeth. "I am not backing down like I did last time. You will not walk out of that door, not while I have breathe in my body!" 

He looked her desperate, almost mad, flashing green eyes. She wasn't going to let him go. He felt sick as he realised that he must say the thing that would break them forever. He would never be able to take it back. "Don't you understand," he said as coldly as he could. "I don't love you. All of the other women, they are an attempt to fill the gap that you haven't been able to fill for a long time." 

She recoiled, shook, fear and loss blackening her face. "What- what have I done? I thought, I thought you loved me. I love you, like I always have." 

"I've realised that you are no longer enough," he lied, tears trying to make their escape. "You have to accept this." 

She didn't move. Her lovely bottom lip shook slightly. "Do you mean it?" 

He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The pain that tore through him as he lied to them both threatened to make him cry out but his determination to do the best for her for the first time kept him going. 

"Oh, Albus, I-" she looked about the room, one hand clutching her heart, the other rubbing her forehead. "I never knew, I-" she choked, letting out a low moan. "I can try-" 

"It won't make a difference." 

She nodded, her face showing slight understanding. "I should have known that I would never be enough, I'm sorry that I couldn't be. I'll always love you, I've always known that." 

He wanted to say it back desperately, but instead shrugged and with one last look at her, he fled. 

As the door closed and Minerva realised he wasn't coming back, her strength failed her and she slumped to the floor, a mass of green skirts. She didn't recognise the hoarse cry that left her mouth, nor could she understand the bitter loneliness she felt. 

She should have known that she wasn't enough. After all, what had she to give? She was nothing compared to him, she wasn't wonderous or extraordinary or or- anything of any value. How could she compare to Albus? 

She couldn't and he had realised it. She would have liked to think that it had only been recently but she knew that it was before Eleanor had been born, that's why he'd slept with that woman. She realised that he had only came back because of the baby and she felt like a fool. A fool to believe that he really did love her. 

She had thought that after her school days, her naive mind was gone but it's seemed she had never changed. She let out another dry sob as she thought about how much she loved him and how little he loved her, if at all.

Perhaps he thought she would be enough. Maybe when he looked upon the star student he thought that she might be as powerful and extraordinary as he was and that was why he had given it a chance. Now, he no doubt saw that she would never amount to anything, she would never be anything to be proud of. 

She stayed crumpled on the floor, switching between light crying and heart wrenching sobbing until dawn came, pale and pink after a night of such darkness. The birds began to sing, the trees whisper in the light breeze and she could hear the clatter of house elves as they prepared breakfast. 

With a sigh, she climbed to her feet, changed her outer robe to her plain black one and donned her usual hat. She washed her face, smoothed her dark hair and without a glance in the mirror, quickly left for the great hall. 

So much had changed but there was little she could do but move on with it and so, as she always did in any crisis, she continued as if nothing happened and took her usual seat at Albus's side and watched as the students filed in, unknowing to the pain that coursed through her. 


	28. To Keep Them from Harm

Eleanor watched her mother pick at her breakfast from the house table. She noticed how pale her skin was, how red her eyes were and she knew by the lost, blank face that something had gone horribly wrong. 

She thought she had sussed  the problem when Poppy marched in without a glance at Minerva but she was quickly proved wrong when Minerva shot her a desperate, pleading glance at which her aunts features softened. 

She waited for her father to arrive but the professors stood to hurry to their classrooms and he still wasn't there. Minerva looked wanly at the headmaster's empty seat and Eleanor knew that he was the cause of her mothers unrest. She stifled a gasp- Minerva knew about his women.

She quickly got up and ran after her mother, who marched with long, purposeful strides. She negotiated around the bustle of students and was grateful that she inherited her mothers long legs for she caught up before Minerva could retreat into a lesson. 

"Mother?" Eleanor touched Minerva's back. 

She spin around slowly, her eyes wide with fear and longing. "Eleanor, you should hurry along," she said quietly, her voice slightly raspy. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing-" 

Eleanor raised her eyebrows, her thin face emulating her mothers. "You look as if you might break," she said softly. "Please, is it Daddy?" 

"Your father," she began but her voice cracked. 

"Oh God," Eleanor said, her heart swelling at her mothers grief. "What's happened?" 

Minerva shook her head, "I have lessons to teach," she muttered and flew into the crowd. 

Eleanor turned on her heels, scowling at the students who did not get out of her way quick enough. She couldn't shake the picture of Minerva's lost, almost child like expression as she made her way to her father's office. Had he confessed? Or had she found out? He had promised Eleanor that he would protect her mother and within hours, he'd broken it. 

She stopped in the doorway when she looked at her father, stooped over his desk, his robes crumpled, dark circles beneath eyes and his skin shallow. He looked like a lonely old man full of regret. 

"Daddy," she said. "Has she left you?" 

He shook his head slowly. "No," he choked. "I left her." 

Eleanor was stunned. The day before he had told her how much he loved her mother, how he didn't regret a moment with her and now he had left her? "Why?" She spluttered. 

"I don't love her," he replied dully. 

"You don't mean that!" Eleanor exclaimed. "Yesterday-" 

"I will not go back to yesterday," he growled. "I don't wish to discuss it, this is between your mother and I-" 

"Have you seen her?" She cried. "She looks like the waking dead! It is my concern when my mother looks so downtrodden! And look at you! You are hardly jumping for joy! Of course you love her!" 

"I do not!" He shouted, slamming his fists on the desk and rising from his seat. "I don't love her, I don't want her!" 

Tears stung her eyes. "How can you say such a thing?" She hissed. "When she has given her life to you?" 

"Because I cannot live a lie any longer," he replied bitterly. "Now I believe you have a lesson to go to?" He indicated to the door and with a frustrated sigh she stormed from the room. 

Albus sank back into his seat laboriously and leaned his head on the cool wood.

He never imagined that he would feel this much pain, this much sorrow, this much guilt in his life time. He had been a coward this morning and hadn't been able to face her but he missed her already.

He missed her morning smile, a smile of delight. He missed turning his back at the morning the light only to have her shake him until he growled and threw his pillow at her. He missed watching her tweak her hair or smooth her skirt before she left for the Great Hall poised and elegant. 

He would never see that again. 

He would never be able to pull her into an embrace, he would never be able to kiss the top of her head as it leaned against his shoulder. 

He should never have been to do those things in the first place. He should never of been able to love her freely. What had he done to them? 

His self aside, he had ruined the woman that Minerva could have become. He had taken her confidence, her precious love, her youth and wrangled and twisted it in his old hands. While he didn't regret Eleanor, for he loved her deeply, he still regretted him trapping her mother. 

He felt utterly guilty at lying to them both. But he had to lie. If he didn't, neither would give up and he hadn't the strength, or the will, to continue to fight them. He had to lie to them, to protect them both and he would protect them at all costs. 

Now Minerva could move on, get her old self back and stun a man who could be what she deserved. He might loathe to see another man love her but he would give his life to see Minerva happy, even if that meant he carried the pain like a stone on his back on the rest of his life. 

He loved her and he hoped that her heart would heal over time, even if his never did. 


	29. Half Dead, Half Alive

The morning June sun glittered off of the lake, bouncing on the gnarled branches of the forest and shimmering of the dewy grass. Albus watched as Minerva walked along the edge, a light cloak over her thin shoulders. She stopped for a moment and turned, looking up as if she knew that he was watching her. He didn't move, he simply watched her upturned face, the dark curls of her hair flap unruly around her long face and sighed. He missed her. Her face, pale and glorious, was full of longing and despair and he wished that he had the power to take that away but instead he had caused it.

She turned away and continued to walk but Albus continued to watch. He watched her every morning; she weathered rain, sleet and snow; she paced in the blazing heat and marched in the bitter cold but she walked, every morning, along the lake, without purpose but with long, elegant strides. He remembered a time when he would walk with her, when they would share their mornings together but now, as he stood, cooped up in his office, all he could do was watch.

Three years had gone by, three long years of suffering. He could only watch as her life carried on without him and he hoped that it would soon turn into a better life and that he would be a nothing more than a memory to her. He wanted her to love again, although it would pain him. He wanted her to laugh again, to smile and giggle - he wanted those eyes to shine. He dreamt about those eyes every night - how they could shine with love, light up with merriment and blaze with temper. He had never known a temper like it and he missed it, he wished that she could be passionate enough about him to scream and swear until her face was red.

She had seemed to have lost herself. She continued to teach with a steely hand, she bit, she was blunt but when she was not the professor any longer, as she made her way back to her rooms, or to dinner, or to a staff meeting, her face was grey, her mouth pursed as if holding back a cry and she didn't walk purposefully as she once had. It was as if every step was painful, as if she didn't want to get where she was going. But Albus knew that she must get there - for on the edge of her woe lay the greatest happiness she would ever find, if she just gave it a chance.

A loud banging interrupted his thoughts. It seemed to him that they were always interrupted- there was never an end to the knocks on his door, no matter what crisis might be erupting within. "Come in," he said, finally turning the gaze from his wonderful wife and making his way behind his desk. He smiled as Snape entered. "Ah, Severus-"

Severus shook his head. He looked flustered, something that Albus was not used to and he felt his heart begin to quicken with a slight panic.

"Call the wedding off," Snape said quietly. "I won't marry her today."

Albus couldn't speak. While he was not happy that his daughter should want to marry so young, she did not deserve a broken heart. "I can't do that," he said finally. "She is expecting you-"

"You have to get her out," Snape's voice was tight, strained. "Now. He's coming for them, for her and Minerva-"

"Does he know?"

"He knows what we wanted him to know," he replied quickly. "Headmaster, if you don't get her out-"

"He cannot enter the castle," Albus said reassuringly.

"But she's not here is she?" Severus snarled. "She's at Poppy's."

"You must go after her-"

"I cannot," Severus made for the door. "I'm being called," and he rushed from the room.

Albus acted quickly, deciding that it was best that he make a plan whilst on the move. First, he marched to the grounds with wide paces and jumping steps and he could have cried when he caught Minerva on her way in. He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. "Minerva, I have to get to Eleanor," he said. "You must go, go somewhere, but get out. Once I've found Eleanor a safe place-"

"Don't be a fool, Albus," Minerva said. "There won't be anywhere safe unless there is a distraction. Where is he going?"

"Poppy's cottage."

Minerva nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Then, go down there now, get everybody out. Take Eleanor to Molly and Arthur's, bring the Dumbledore's up here. I'll follow you, I'll be behind you, should something go wrong. Once everybody is safe, I'll stay at the cottage - with one of us, that will give you enough time to put the right securities on the Burrow-"

"But what about you?"

"Just keep our daughter alive," Minerva snapped. "Never mind me, now go, run Albus."

Albus nodded, not letting go of her arm. He searched her face, a face which was full of grim acceptance. Her green eyes were blazing, ready for what was to come. He couldn't find any fear behind them and he was taken back, as he had been so many times, at her bravery. It was at times like this that Albus realised that she didn't need him to protect her and that had it not been for him, she would have become the independent, confident soul that she was born to be. 

"Albus!" She hissed. "Go!" 

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pull her to him and squeeze her tightly - he could lose her at any moment and he could feel the threat of death run through him like a cold, unearthly chill. Instead, with a heavy heart, he nodded once again and marched down towards the cottage. 

 

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Minerva waited a moment before she followed him. She breathed deeply and calmed her heart to a reasonable rhythm. She was terrified, she knew she would be, but she was in the moment now, she was in the moment that she knew would bring her great pain but as long as Eleanor and Albus were safe, she hardly cared. She could endure anything for them, she had prepared herself for it. 

She set off, down the grassy hill and through the trees. Would this be the last time that she looked upon the sky? Would this be the last time that she would feel the gentle spring breeze on her skin? Riddle could kill her, in fact, she was sure that he would. She would die within the hour and she would die without having seen Eleanor's face as she was married, without having said goodbye to her, without telling her that she loved her. She would die without the love of Albus, without the knowledge that she was his wife and that he wanted her. 

As she reached the cottage, she watched as Poppy and William apparated, Poppy's face stricken and her hand clutching tightly to her son's arm, no doubt to make doubly sure that he was there, next to her. Aberforth hurried behind them and disappeared within a blink and Minerva waited to see Eleanor be scurried out by Albus but when they didn't appear, she realised with a great sinking of her heart that she had missed them. She would never see them again. 

Inside, she boiled a kettle, because that seemed the most natural thing to do. Her hands shook as she filled and lifted the pot onto the hob - she needed to do this manually, to keep her hands busy and to focus on something, even if that was something so simple as making a cup of tea. She took the tea in a dainty white bone china cup and saucer and she sat at the wooden kitchen table as she sipped at it. For the first time in her life she fancied a spoonful of sugar but she doubted that Poppy would have any. 

"Minerva?" 

She jumped, the dainty cup shattering on the floor. "Severus, what-" 

"Is everyone gone?" He whispered. 

"Yes." 

"Then you must come with me." 

Her mouth went dry as her skin froze and her chest began to constrict. This was it, she knew, and as she rose from her seat her knees were stiff and her legs unstable. How far could she trust Snape? How much was he willing to risk his life for them all? 

Riddle sat in a low, carved oak armchair in the small, stone walled sitting room. His followers stood around him, faces that she recognised - some she had taught, some she had gone to school with. His skin was grey, an unnatural colour that made her feel as if she were in the presence of death. He sneered as she stood before him, her neck elongated, her jaw jutted defiantly. She held his gaze, preying that no traces of her mind-numbing fear was revealed in them. 

"Where is, Dumbledore?" He asked. 

"I don't have a tracking device attached to him," Minerva replied evenly. Her heart began to pound again, so loud that she was sure that others could hear it. 

"He'll come back for you," he said. 

"You'll be waiting a long time."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes almost black, so dark that they seemed to penetrate through her and search her soul. It was then she remember that he could read her mind and so, with all the force she could muster, she closed it as tightly as she could. 

When he started to laugh, she felt as if she might scream her nerves were so wrought. It was high and shrill, filling the room and bouncing from the walls. She had never heard such a noise and she caught her breathe. She was going to die now, she was sure of it. 

"I realise now," he said slowly, proudly. He stood and turned to address his audience. "Dumbledore won't come and get her. Dumbledore no longer cares for her." 

"You are wasting your time, Riddle," she hissed. Being reminded of that fact, by a man whom she loathed, seemed to fight away the utter terror she felt and began to slowly drip fire in her veins. 

"You're very brave," he said. "Foolish...but brave. You stand here, no doubt, to protect him. You are willing to die for him and yet he does not love you. I always thought you an extraordinary witch, with intelligence but to give up your life for a man who doesn't feel anything for you..." he shook his head. "What a waste." 

He moved closer to her while Minerva tried to control her breathing and keep her eyes fixed on his. She was going to die defiantly, looking straight at him. 

"I usually hear people beg, they fall to my feet, when they know that I am going to kill them," he whispered. "But here you are, looking straight at me. It makes a change, perhaps it makes it a little more...troublesome. I must ask myself, do I really want to waste such a person?" He touched her arm and she flinched at its coldness. He laughed. "So you are afraid." 

"No," she lied. 

"Interesting..." he drew in a deep breath. "Now tell me, Minerva, do you seek the company of my loyal Snape because you have sympathies with my cause?" 

She wished that she didn't have to admit it to him. She wished that he had searched Snape's mind and seen any woman but her, or Eleanor for that matter, because she knew that he would enjoy hearing it from her. It was her daughter's pale, graceful face that gave her the strength to shake her head. "Not sympathies with your cause...but I sought his company." 

"But why?" He probed. "Dumbledore is, well, is the second to me. Snape, though cunning, is nothing compared to Dumbledore. If you were looking for another kind of greatness you should have found me." 

"I seek no power, or greatness, it is immaterial to me," she replied.

"But you must!" He insisted. "To marry Dumbledore, what other reason would there be? He is old and predictable whilst you are quite the opposite-" 

"Albus is more than you will ever be," she snapped. "I was his wife because I loved him, not for his greatness, or his power, or his influence but because of who he is. It may be beyond your understanding but it is the truth and I won't die without having said that to you. So kill me but know that I die having loved the man that will always tear you down; the man to whom you will never equal, let alone surpass-" 

"I've had enough!" He cried. "I've wasted my time," he reached into his black robes and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at her, his eyes full of malice and pleasure as he mouth began to open- 

"Minerva, run!" Albus bellowed from the doorway as he aimed his wand at Riddle and knocked him off balance.

Minerva ran to him, almost crying with relief, and as she ran past Snape, she noticed that he had drawn his wand - he would have given his life for her. She felt a sudden shame, she had been wrong about him. 

Albus grabbed her by the arm and pulled her behind him. She reached for her own wand but before she had time to aim the room was empty, Riddle and his beasts having fled in a swirling black smog. 

"He always runs," Albus said quietly to himself. "Perhaps next time..." 

When he turned to look at her, Minerva was leaning against the wall, her breathing heavy. Her skin was white and her stomach had dropped - she was alive. She felt faint as she thought about how close she had come to death; she felt as if she had been half in this life and half in the next when Albus showed up. 

"Are you hurt?" Albus asked urgently. 

She shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you for coming back to me," she said. 

"Yes, well..." he coughed. "I would never leave anybody behind." 

"Why did you come back?"  She asked and she couldn't help but feel the trickle of hope in her heart. 

"Because you needed me to," he replied simply. 

She nodded, fighting back tears and bitter disappointment. She should have known, she shouldn't have been so stupid as to think that he had come back to save her because he loved her rather than because he was a admirable person. 

Albus however, had come back the moment that he had placed the protection charms on the Burrow. He knew that Riddle would try to kill her and the thought of her being dead - it just wasn't possible. Leaving a bewildered Eleanor in the care of her aunt and uncle, Albus had hurried back and crept into the cottage, silent in the hallway as he waited for the right moment. He had heard Minerva's words - clear, brave words that had made his heart swell with pride. He had heard her defend him, admit that she still loved him and was willing to die for him - how could she still feel that way? He had treated her wretchedly for most of her life. He had loved her, left her, married her and broken her heart. He had told her that she wasn't anything to him, that she wasn't enough for his brilliant self and yet she was still willing to die for him. How much longer would he have this hold on her? When would she realise that he really was a bastard and finally move on? 

 


	30. The Wedding

"You still wear that ring," Poppy said as she and Minerva were transforming the cottage's living room into a ceremony room that much resembled the one that Minerva had married Albus in. 

Minerva looked down at the thin gold band that still sat on her pale finger. She hardly noticed that it was there anymore. The bottom of her finger where it sat was thinner than the rest of her fingers and it slid around with ease. It was a part of her, still, even though it had little meaning left. "I know," she replied simply. She continued at her task, but she knew that Poppy was still looking at her, still questioning why she wore a ring given to her by a man who no longer loved her. 

"Don't you think that it's time to-" 

"What harm is it doing there?" Minerva shot back defensively. 

"It's a constant reminder-" 

"Of what I had and what I've lost?" Minerva arched a brow. 

"Of what you suffered," Poppy said evenly. 

Minerva rolled her eyes but remained silent, focusing on the lamp that she effortlessly turned into a tall shining candleabra, sporting four tall candles and a round arrangement of pale roses in the middle. At that moment she thought of Ellen, of how she had made Minerva's own wedding so beautiful. She hadn't thought about Ellen for a long time and she felt a pang of guilt. Ellen's children were grown up now - the boys were living in London, helping the fight against Riddle whilst Molly was married with three sons and another child on the way. Ellen had missed all of that, while Minerva and Poppy stood proudly in her place. 

Poppy patted Minerva's arm. "I'm thinking the same thing, as nice as this is, Ellen had a...a different touch, don't you think?" 

Minerva smiled. "She did," she said quietly. "Much like Molly does." 

"It's amazing how much Molly is like her. Sometimes, when I'm not thinking clearly, Molly will say something and for a moment it's as if Ellen is talking to me." 

"It's a shame about her father," Minerva said. "He never forgave that poor girl." 

"Git," Poppy muttered but her face was as innocent as a child's as she continued at her task. 

After Molly's birth, her father, despite the stern words from Priscilla Pomfrey, had never taken to the child. Minerva and Poppy had brought her into their homes, believing that being a part of theirs was better than living in a house with a father who could never love her. As a result, Molly had grown close to Eleanor and William especially, whom she named her first son after, though Molly's brothers had become confused and with laziness called the baby Bill and it had stuck. 

As the two women began to turn the armchairs and sofa into neat rows of beautiful, shining silver chairs, William appeared in the doorway with an affectionate grin. "Never thought you two would be able to do something so fancy," he teased. 

"I never thought you could look so fancy," Minerva retorted with a smile. 

He was as tall as his father, an inch or two shorter than Albus, but he had the Dumbledore eyes and hair, which was usually as unruly as Aberforth's. Today however, as he stood in an elegant black morning suit, his hair was shorter and waxed into a fashionable side parting. He wore a silver cravat, with a shining pin in the middle and black and white shining brogues. 

"It's all a little muggle, don't you think?" Poppy remarked as she furrowed her brow and cocked her head a little. "You look like something out of their novels." 

"It's what Eleanor wanted," William replied with his hands in his pockets. "Besides," he turned around on his heels like a school boy, still sporting a grin when he was facing them again. "I like it." 

"You look smart," Minerva smiled as she went to go past him and upstairs. She patted his arm and kissed his cheek. "Very handsome, all you need is to find yourself a girl." 

He laughed. "Why would I want one when I could have many?" He chuckled. 

Minerva didn't say anything and continued upstairs. She knew that he was only joking but his face and smile were so like that of Albus that she worried that there may be some truth in it. After all, it was in his blood, and she didn't want him to hurt some poor, little kind girl, that doted on him. Because she had been that girl. 

Upstairs, in Poppy's bedroom, it was as if a whirlwind had swept through. Charmed pins bobbed in the air, waiting to be ordered to pin this curl up, that curl round; the wedding dress and bridesmaid dress hung up at the window; the bed was scattered with brushes, make up, underwear, bottles and nappies. Molly sat perched on the end, the only area not covered with something, bouncing Percy, a sullen child, on her knee whilst Eleanor sat at the vanity table, pulling her eyebrow up so that she could pencil it in lightly. She often complained that she had inherited Minerva's too thin eyebrows, though she was grateful for their shape, a natural, evenly curved arch. 

"Where are the boys?" Minerva asked. 

"Arthur is keeping them occupied, I hope," Molly replied. "They are probably running rings around him." 

"I don't doubt it," Minerva smiled. "Couldn't you ask him to take Percy as well?" 

"I'm hoping Percy will go to sleep soon, so that I can get ready," Molly kissed the top of his head. Minerva couldn't help but think that he had a face and personality that only a mother could love. 

"And Eleanor, what are you trying to do?" Minerva asked kindly. 

Eleanor threw down the pencil and sighed. "Make this," she pointed to her brow, "something other than a useless line. I want a bit of definition." 

"I think that they are lovely," Minerva said warmly. 

"That's what Daddy said this morning," Eleanor said, turning back to the mirror. "Have you seen him today?" 

"No, I've been busy downstairs," Minerva replied, twisting her ring around her finger. "What time will he be here?" 

"Well, I need you to talk to him," Eleanor said, her voice suddenly thicker. "He won't listen to me and he is being silly. I know that he isn't doing it on purpose but he is going to ruin my wedding if he doesn't change his mind." 

"What's wrong with him?" Minerva asked. 

"He isn't coming. He said that he will come up to see me before but he didn't want-" she stopped and shot her mother a dark look in the mirror. "Did you tell him that you didn't want him there?" 

Minerva was shocked. "I didn't!" She cried. "It's none of my business who is there, it's your wedding. He's your father, he should be there." 

"He seems to think that you wouldn't want him there," she shook her head. "Really, it's ridiculous. I have no idea why he suddenly left you, I have no idea what happened but I thought that we were all old enough to just get on with it." 

"He left me because he doesn't love me-" 

Eleanor scoffed. "For somebody who is so intelligent you are clearly stupid," she said. "It's obvious that there is another reason-" 

"Eleanor, he has told me and he has told you, now would you leave it?" 

"She's right," Molly said quietly, laying the child down on a newly created space. "Whilst it is obvious to everyone that he does love Aunt Minerva and that is definitely not the reason why he left, you shouldn't give her false hope." 

Minerva squeezed the girls hand. "For whatever reasons he has left me and I have to deal with that," Minerva said too loudly as she tried to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth. "But he won't miss the wedding because I have no objections to him being there, nor have I given him reason to believe that I do." She stood, fists clenched. "I shan't be long." 

As she left, she heard Molly said, "I love it when she does that. She get so determined, I wonder if she knows how squarely she can set her jaw," too which Minerva laughed softly. 

As she made her way to Albus's office, it dawned on her that this walk, too and from the cottage, was a regular occurrence, during which, she always had a lot to think about. This time however, there was no jumping too and throw between them - Eleanor wanted her father at her wedding and Minerva was determined for that to happen - she would have given anything for her own father to be at hers. 

Snape was waiting outside if the office as she sprang from the stone stairway. He bowed his head slightly at her. 

"What are you doing here?" Minerva asked. 

"I needed to talk to him, about something," Snape replied. 

"I won't ask what, since it is obvious that you do not wish to tell me," Minerva said tightly. "But will it affect my daughter's happiness?" 

Snape shook his head. 

"Very well, I'll wait for you." 

"Oh, no, if you have come here, then it must be more important than what I have to say," he said quietly. "How are you, after..." 

"Fine," she said quickly. "Just fine," she smiled at him, as earnestly as she ever had. "I saw your wand in your hand as I ran out, and I thank you." 

"No need," Snape coughed, obviously embarrassed. "You should go in, we don't have long before it starts." 

She wanted to pat his arm, or squeeze his hand but she knew that he would only turn away and so she continued on through the door, shutting it firmly behind her. She felt sorry for the boy - he had too many troubles than anyone should, she just hoped that he could bear them and still keep Eleanor happy. 

She didn't sit down but paced the floor. She hadn't been alone, in this room with Albus, since the year before when he had left. In fact, she had hardly been in close proximity at all - they had both managed to avoid it and she was quite thankful for it. She still wanted him and loved him desperately and it was still hard to remember that she wasn't allowed to kiss him absent- mindedly, or to squeeze his arm as they passed each other. She had been allowed to do it for so long that it was still natural to her and she had to fight every instinct whenever she was around him, Luckily, there had always be others about so she had been able to do this but she knew that it would take everything she had to overcome these feelings now. 

As Albus came from the landing and made his way down the spiral staircase, Minerva's mouth turned dry. She dug her nails into her palms and took a deep breath. 

He stopped as he reached the bottom, a flicker of worry crossing his face. "I thought you were Severus," he said, his voice shook a little. In a moment, he seemed to get a hold of himself and he smiled amicably. "Why don't you sit down, Minerva?" 

"Why won't you come to the wedding?" She blurted. 

"It will make things awkward," he replied as he sank into his seat. "It's best if I stay away." 

"That isn't what Eleanor thinks," Minerva quipped. "She sent me up here to talk some sense into you." 

Albus smiled. "I didn't think that anybody sent you anywhere." 

She arched a brow. 'You sent me away,' was on the tip of her tongue but instead she shrugged elegantly, something Albus was sure only Minerva was capable of. 

"Does she want me to come?" 

"Of course." 

"Do you?" 

She sighed irritably. "Albus, I think you forget that it was you who ended this," she snapped. "So it must be you who works with us. I have no problem with you being there since I can stand to in your company." 

"You think that I cannot stand to be in yours?" 

"I saw the look when you saw me standing here instead of Snape," she said. "You did not want to see me but let me tell you, Dumbledore, you will go to our daughters wedding, you will walk her down the aisle and you will suffer standing next to me the whole day. It's one day to please her and then you needn't be within six foot of me again." 

He shook his head. "It has nothing to do with my suffering standing next to you - I can stand it, Minerva, I just didn't think that you would want me to be there, not after everything I did, everything I said- I thought that you would hate me." 

"I've told you many a time before that I do not hate you and I never will," she lowered her head and shut her eyes firmly to stop the tears. Her chest grew tight and she knew that it was time to leave before she said something that he would never be able to say back. "Just be at the cottage within an hour, or I'm sending Aberforth and William to get you." 

 

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

"It's a lovely dress, of course it is because Ellen made it but-" Poppy held Eleanor by the shoulders. "Your mother wore it and look how that has turned out." 

Eleanor shook her head. "Aunt Poppy, no matter what you or mother say, Daddy loves her and don't call me a child for believing it!" She said, her voice high like Minerva's was whenever she was irritated. "If I could have a love like they have, I'll be eternally happy and so I'm wearing it." 

"If what your father felt was love then God help us," Poppy snapped.

"Do you always have to say things like that?" Eleanor shrieked. "He is my father, damn it! And would you please tell me who is perfect?" 

"You have seen nothing that that man has done," Poppy said darkly. "You were not there. He used your mother, he tricked her, manipulated her -" 

"Why do you hate him?" 

"Because of what he has done to her!" Poppy shouted. "I've had to live watching my dearest friend suffer pain and hurt, listen to her as she beat herself down and dragged herself through the mud, all because of that man!" 

Eleanor opened her mouth to speak but stopped as she saw Minerva standing in the doorway, her eyes blazing, her mouth tightly pursed. Her face was dark and ready to kill, Eleanor had never seen her like it. "Your father will be here within the hour," she seethed. "Poppy, I need to speak to you." 

"I'll leave," Eleanor whispered and she scurried out of the bedroom, shrinking past Minerva. 

"I will thank you to stop saying such things to my daughter," Minerva hissed. "I have asked you once before but I will never ask again." 

"Why do you always protect him?" 

"Because I love him," Minerva said but her voice was threatening rather than full of love. "I want nothing more than for him to love me but he does not. That doesn't change what I feel." 

Poppy's face softened. Her eyes flashed with what looked to Minerva like guilt and she took Minerva's hand. "Do you still miss him?" 

"Everyday," Minerva admitted softly. "Every damn day, I wake up and expect him beside and Poppy, every time that I see that he isn't my heart breaks again. I miss having someone to talk to, to laugh with, to kiss goodnight, to simply sit in an armchair with a book and know that when I look up, he will be sitting opposite, munching on a biscuit and getting crumbs every where." 

"Can't you tell him how you feel?" 

She shook her head. "He made his feelings perfectly clear, I won't make a fool of myself again as it seems that I have done for so many years-" 

"But what if everyone is right? What if he does still love you?" 

"I know what he said, I saw his eyes," Minerva shook her head. "It's finished, Poppy, now let it be? But please, could you just stop saying demeaning things about him to Eleanor? He is her father and I want her to be proud of that." 

Poppy nodded, unable to speak. She fled from the room, overcome with guilt and shame. She had thought that she had done the right thing when she had told Albus to leave Minerva. She had thought that it would be the final cutting of all ties and that Minerva would be free and within months, be thankful for that freedom. Now, Poppy could see that she had never been more wrong about anything in her life. Minerva needed Albus just as Poppy needed Aberforth. As Poppy went to find her son, she began to cry - she had snapped Minerva's heart more severely than Albus ever had. 

When Poppy was gone, Eleanor, who had been hiding in the hallway, scurried back into the bedroom and shut the door. Minerva sat at the vanity table, her head in her hands. She was perfectly still, as if she had stopped breathing but she looked up at Eleanor as she heard the door click shut with wide, pleading, desperate eyes. She looked more like a child than a mother and Eleanor's heart filled with panic - if a broken heart could destroy such a strong woman, what chance did she ever have if her own heart were broken? 

As if gaining some sudden composure, as if she realised that it was her daughter in front of her and she suddenly needed to be the adult, the strong, capable adult. "Do you need me to help you into the dress? I can make another if you wish, it won't take a minute," Minerva offered. 

"I don't want a new dress," Eleanor said quietly. "I want to wear your one. But I would like you to help me, if you don't mind." 

Minerva nodded and without looking away from Eleanor she levitated the gown so that it hung between them. As she helped Eleanor in, buttoned her up and arranged the train, Minerva couldn't help but think how lucky she was to have such a wonderful daughter. She was thankful that she looked so much like Albus, in those miserable months after she had been told that she would never have children again, she imagined the child to be the spit of his father. Whilst Minerva admitted that Eleanor had her own slender body and angular face, she had the colouring and magnificent eyes of Albus, eyes that were so expressive, so full of warmth and kindness. Just as these eyes matched Albus, they suited Eleanor perfectly, for she was one of the kindest and gentlest souls that Minerva had ever met, save for her temper, which she could thank her mother for. 

As Minerva tucked away an escaping red curl, Albus knocked lightly on the door. 

Eleanor beamed and kissed her mother's cheek quickly. "You can come in!" She sang. 

He came in sheepishly, with his shoulders shrunk and when he saw Eleanor beaming at him with Minerva standing proudly behind her, he caught his breath. He was looking at what he had given up, his family that had taken him so many years to build and only moments to tear down again. 

The last time he had seen the dress that Eleanor was wearing with it's lace and elegant skirt, Albus had been the happiest he had ever been in his life. Minerva had looked so beautiful, despite being weak and having suffered near death but her frailty only reminded him that he needed to do his best by her. He shook his head, that hadn't worked out. 

Eleanor looked much like Minerva had in that dress only, she seemed a lot younger. her face still as youthful as a child's. Where had the time gone? She had only been born minutes ago, he was sure. His arms still ached from holding her in his arms for too long as Minerva hurried around the kitchen scrambling together a bottle. His knee's were still sore from leaning on them all evening, trying to coax her to crawl. She was still his baby, he was sure. When did she grow up? 

He suddenly noticed that both women were looking at him expectantly. He coughed and shuffled slightly. "You look as beautiful as your mother did in that dress," he said softly. 

Minerva rolled her eyes. "That's hardly a compliment, Albus, I was recovering from death the day we got married," she said quickly.

"But you still looked extraordinary," he whispered and then regretted it. He had given up the right to say it when he had left her. 

"I'm going to find Molly, won't be long," Eleanor said brightly, knowing in her eyes. She stood to her tip toes to peck her father's cheek and left, making sure that she closed the door. 

Albus looked around at the discarded cloths, the make up strewn across the dressing table, the shoes thrown on the rug. "You would think that a thousand women had got ready in here," he smiled. 

"Just two," Minerva replied quietly. "It should have been three but Eleanor and Molly have both run off and I need their help." 

"With what?" 

"The zip. I'm wearing a muggle dress, as instructed." 

"Ah, yes, I had forgotten," Albus exclaimed and before Minerva blinked his robes had changed to the dark morning suit that William wore, with matching silver cravat and shining shoes. "What is this all about, do you know?" 

Minerva shrugged. "She wanted something different, Snape said she could do whatever she wanted, so there we are." 

Albus raised a brow. "Will you ever call him Severus, my dear?" 

"Natural instinct," she said apologetically. "I say Snape without thinking but I suppose I should try." 

"Maybe," Albus said distractedly. "What colour are you wearing?" 

She furrowed her brows. "Green, why?" 

"I haven't seen you in anything but black for a year." 

Minerva laughed pitifully. "Eleanor barked on and on that I shouldn't wear black and that I had been wearing it too long...I like wearing black, it's simple, everything matches, I don't have to think." 

"You shouldn't wear it all of the time," he whispered. 

"It's how I feel," she admitted, eyes downcast. 

He sighed. "Minerva, I wish we could go back." 

Minerva's heart leaped as she looked up at him. "Go back?" Perhaps this was it, he had changed his mind - he did love her! 

"To before. I do not regret Eleanor but sometimes I can't help but think that everything would have been so much better for you if I had just," he shook his head. "If I had never given in we wouldn't be in this mess. Anything you would have felt for me would, by now, be considered to be a school girl fancy and you would be married with a decent husband, with Eleanor and maybe a few others." 

"I wouldn't change anything in my life, except this past year. I'm so very glad that I met you, that I fell in love with you, that I became your wife and had your child," Minerva said evenly. "I'll never regret anything with you. I regret that I couldn't be enough for you, that is the only thing I regret." 

He nodded slowly, wishing that he could tell her that she had always been enough, more than enough, more than he deserved even. He wished for so many things and he was getting sick of keep wishing and wishing when he could change nothing. Damn the word and it's concept, a concept of unending hope and destruction. "Even if I had never acted on my feelings and you had forgotten and married somebody else, I would never have forgotten you." 

"You're too kind, Albus, there is no need to try to make me feel better about myself, I know what I am," she closed her eyes and turned from him. "Could you go and find Eleanor or Molly? I need them to do me up and I've got to be ready in less than half hour." 

"I'll do it," he offered and he could only smile at her brows that rose so high they nearly touched her headline. "What?" He asked, opening his arms. "I know my way around a zip, a hinge, a pin." 

"But we aren't really married anymore," Minerva protested, her voice high. "I'm not going to get changed in front of you!"

"I'm a brave man," Albus chuckled. "I'm sure that you have nothing that I haven't seen before." 

She hit him lightly in the chest. "I'm perfectly formed," she quipped. "Oh, fine," she sighed. "I doubt you'll be able to find them empty handed anyway, just... go and stand it that corner and don't turn around." 

"Would you prefer if I went outside?" 

"No, then somebody might see you and come to a conclusion." 

"Coming to conclusions...what could they come to?" He winked at her which made her laugh. A beautiful song that he hadn't heard in what seemed like an eternity. 

"Act your age, Headmaster and go and stand over there," she said severely with a glint of humour in her bright eyes. "And I will know if you turn around." 

He saluted her. "Yes, Mistress," and he stood in the corner, hands behind his back, swinging on his heels. 

She felt herself blush as she began to undress. Before she would not have taken any notice, she wasn't bothered about what he saw but now she was worried that he would seek out all of her imperfections, or see them again if he had already sought them out. She should have sent him outside but his light humour, his quick jokes made her feel as if she were in another room with him a decade or two ago. It felt so easy and effortless and she knew that they would have been forced back into awkward terrain if she had sent him from the room. 

"You know, I might not be able to look but I know exactly what I would be looking at," he said. "So really, I'm wasting my time looking at this wall, as interesting as this paint, a light magnolia I would say, is, I feel that my time might be better used if-" 

She tugged on her dress, careful to keep her balance so that she did not ladder her skin coloured stockings. "You can turn around now," she interrupted. 

He grinned at her as she waddled backwards towards him and when he zipped up the pale green, straight dress, he had to fight the urge to kiss her shoulder. Instead he tapped her lightly on the back, "Lovely," he said. "Only, your left stocking is halfway down your leg." 

"Oh damn it," she muttered, frantically pulling it up. "Bloody garter, useless-" 

"You know we have magic for these kind of inconveniences." 

"Thank you, know all," Minerva quipped. "But I am not almighty. Whenever I charm my garters, the top of the stocking ladders and do you know how hard they are to fix, with or without magic?" 

"Oh, the tribulations of being a woman," he teased. "Pull your dress up and I'll do it." 

"Now you are taking me for a fool," she blustered, feeling her cheeks pink. Really she just didn't want him to see the top of her legs, with were not so streamlined as they had been in the past. 

"I'm only trying to help you," he said. "I won't take any notice and there is nothing improper behind my offer. Now, pull your dress up," he smirked like a school boy. "You've hardly ever said no before, I must be losing my charms." 

"Damn you," she said, pulling the dress up. "Don't dither." 

"Oh, why would I?" he laughed. With a delicate flick of his wand, the runway stocking rose up her leg and latched onto the garter. "It should stay, but let me know if you need my assistance again.., re-charming the right stocking, unzipping the dress..." 

"I won't need any help with that thank you," she pursed her lips. "But you might as well do the right one while we are here, the last thing I want is it slipping down my leg in front of everyone." 

"At your service," he said. 

Minerva smiled. She hadn't felt this much at ease in a year and she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be content. In this moment she could forget that he was no longer her husband and she could imagine that this was just another routine morning, where they danced around each other to get ready for the day. She would ask him to do her bra up or straighten her hem while he would ask why he could never find any clean socks while she pointed out that they were always in the same place in the same drawer. 

"it's nice to feel comfortable, isn't it?" He asked quietly as Minerva pulled her dress down. "I have never felt comfortable with any one except you." 

"I've missed the companionship," she replied. "I'm ever so lonely. Molly invites me to the Burrow during the holidays, Poppy wants me to meet her in the pub in the evenings but I'm still lonely." 

"Perhaps we could remedy that?" He suggested. "Just because we are no longer living as man and wife doesn't mean that we can be companions, as you say. We get along well. we like the same things and I wouldn't want you to be lonely." 

"But haven't you got anyone that could give you friendship and all the rest? Isn't that why you went?" 

The question hung in the air between them and Albus's face screwed up a little with shame. She suddenly felt guilty - she couldn't rack him across the coals for the rest of his life, that certainly wasn't fair. 

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to be so rude-" 

"It wasn't rude, and no, I haven't got anyone." 

"But the others-" 

He waved a hand. "Are not you." 

She nodded. She was sure that the more time she spent with him the deeper and deeper she would fall in love with him, as it seemed she had everyday she was with him, but she hoped that she would be able to control that drowning her for she wanted to spend time with him, she wanted to be near to him again and talk to him. "I don't need you to baby sit me," she said. 

"It would never be baby sitting," he objected. "I would be honoured if you would spend your time with me." 

"I would like to-" 

"Daddy, we need to go downstairs," Eleanor's head popped through the door that neither had heard be opened. "Severus is here and the room is full up." 

"Ah, it's time," Minerva smiled. "I'll see you downstairs," without thinking, she rubbed Albus's arm gently. She jumped away from him, not catching his eye and cupped Eleanor's face. "You look beautiful, darling, and I'm so proud of you. I hope you have the happiness that I had only, I pray that it never ends," she kissed her cheek and left. In a few minutes her daughter would become Mrs Snape but Minerva would remember the moment she felt happiest that day and it was being in the room with Albus as the awkwardness melted away and she caught a glimpse of what they had been.


	31. Priscilla

Priscilla Pomfrey hid behind her age. 

She believed that reaching an advanced age meant that she had earned certain rights - the right to interrupt; to comment; to become involved with affairs that were not really her concern. While she used these rights willfully, she also bit whenever anyone called her old, or questioned her ability to do something because of her age. She was a fiery woman, still stern and methodical and proud, like an Englishman who still worshiped the Empire. Nobody could say that her mind had become unhinged. She was alert, calculating and aware of everything around her. She knew what somebody was thinking by a mere twist of their lips, of a flicker in their eye. She had always been possessed of the innate ability to read people and she still commanded this talent with a steely fist and brisk manner. 

She was taller than Poppy, her body slender, whereas Poppy had inherited a slightly florid figure from her father, but they shared the same heart shaped face and wide, expressive eyes. They were both capable and talented medi-witches, though Priscilla was prim and old fashioned in her methods. But they had the same stern voice and uttered the same quipped commands. Behind this, however, Priscilla was able to see any situation from every perspective, Poppy however, had a driven, single-mindedness about her that Priscilla sometimes believed would be her downfall. 

Priscilla leaved alone, in the same small townhouse that she had married and reared her daughter in. Her husband, Frank, was long dead and while his portrait hung in the hallway, it was usually covered with a thick black sheet and as a result remained silent and still. Her house was tall and narrow; an alley kitchen that hadn't been remodeled since the 1930's, a high ceiling-ed living room with a huge, shining fireplace and three, dainty, slightly frilly, bedrooms. Her grandchildren; William, Eleanor and Molly, used to stay with her for a lot of the holidays and Christmas's were always spent squeezing everyone into the charmed front room whilst Priscilla, Poppy and Minerva, supervised the dinner whilst sipping tea and nagging about their husbands. 

Priscilla sat in this living room, her glasses perched on the end of her nose and a quill tapping the cross word book impatiently when her fireplace glowed green and Poppy appeared in it, her face ashen. It had been two weeks since the wedding, a beautiful affair where the troubles and burdens that the Dumbledore's had felt acutely for years had been forgotten. Priscilla had enjoyed herself; Poppy had been flushed and merry; William had been the lady charmer, a confident smile painted on his face; Eleanor had glowed as she held the hand of her new, welcomed husband and Minerva had smiled more brightly and more often than she had in a long time. Priscilla had noticed an ease between Minerva and her estranged husband rather than the stiffness, the pain and the suffering that followed in their wake. She had never felt such a great weight of a broken heart as she did when she was around Minerva and she didn't know the the slight girl carried it without simply breaking in two. 

She took her glasses of slowly and surveyed her daughter. She wasn't worried. Poppy had a slightly dramatic air about her, as if drama and pitfalls followed her and so an ashen face was not new to Priscilla. "Hasn't term started?" She asked. 

"No, Mother," Poppy said tightly. "Next week." 

"I see. You know I find that a door bell is just as efficient as-" 

"I had to see you," Poppy said quickly, pacing the floor. "I've done something terrible. I believed it was the right thing, but I've been very wrong but- it just drives me. The hatred for that man-" 

"What has Albus done now?" She sighed. It was always Albus - he was the only thing that Poppy had ever complained about. Priscilla couldn't understand why the girl hated him so much when it was clear that the feelings were not reciprocated. Albus was always polite towards her daughter, charming and endearing, as he was with everybody. She didn't believe that there was a bad bone in his body and she certainly did not believe that he deserved such deep running hatred. 

"Nothing new," Poppy continued to march. "The same- oh nothing really! Mum, when I tell you, you'll realise what a great mistake I've made. Minerva... well, what kind of friend have I been?" 

"Good God, Poppy, you haven't! I just don't know where you get this from," Priscilla shook her head. "I brought you up to be a nice girl and since you were fifteen all I've had are reports on your behavior! First it was Headmaster Dippet coming to tell me that he'd caught with a boy in the broom cupboard, skirts up to your waist and then it was Albus, with an apologetic explanation of why you were in detention again! I thought that Aberforth had changed this, I thought-" 

"I haven't slept with him!" Poppy cried indignantly. "I am nothing like I was when I was young. I love my husband and I would never-" 

"Then I apologise," Priscilla said dryly, though she hardly meant it. She thought that it seemed a justified conclusion to come to. "Now, come along, speak up, what have you done?" 

Without pause, Poppy flew into an explanation that spanned twenty years. She told her about the baby being Dumbledore's; Poppy's raging at him when Minerva had come to the school to teach; Albus's discretion's; Minerva's forgiveness and finally, Poppy's instructions to set her friend free. When she had finished, she found that she was nearly panting and her stomach dropped when she saw the dark, foreboding look on her mother's face. 

"What have you done?!" Priscilla said lowly. "You've ruined two lives with your words, with your spite. It was up to Minerva to leave Albus and clearly she did not want-" 

"But look how changed she was!" Poppy cried. "She was half of the person that she could have been!" 

"So you can see into the future now?" Priscilla retorted. "More to the point, Minerva is magnificent. What more is there to be? And who are you to question into whose hands she put her heart?" 

"But look what he did-" 

"You fool," Priscilla said. "All your life you act like the child. Minerva didn't pay you enough attention anymore and so you throw your toys out and demand the world to be as you see it should be. Your father spoiled you. Don't you see that no matter what Albus has done, he loves that girl? That's what matters. It was up to Minerva to decide if she could live with it all and clearly, she could." 

"But she was student!" 

"You think that I don't know that?" Priscilla said evenly. She matched her daughter's temper with an unsettling calmness. "I'm not an idiot, Poppy. What Professor do you know would have stayed with me for three hours while I tried to save that girls life? What Professor do you know who would sit outside her hospital room door for two days, muttering and cursing at himself? I knew that it was him, I also knew that he would never have sent her to one of those women." 

"Then why didn't you say anything to him then?" 

"Because it was none of my business," Priscilla remarked defensively. "I knew what kind of man he was and so I knew that whatever went on between them was honorable-" 

"How can that be honorable?" 

"It is not for us to decide whom we fall in love with," Priscilla said. "Whether it is good or bad for us, we still do it. Don't you see that love made the whole situation honorable? It was not the wanting of bodies, or of trophies but of love that thew them into that position?" 

"I've never thought of it like that," Poppy whispered. 

"I don't suppose you did," Priscilla commented wryly. She rose from her seat and placed her glasses on her silver head. "You can pack my things while I am gone," she said sternly. "I'll be staying about a week."

"Where are you going now?" 

"To speak to Albus of course," she said sharply as the green flames engulfed her. 

Albus jumped out of his skin when Priscilla appeared in his fireplace in the office. She doubted whether he knew that she had access- she had done for years. "Good morning, Headmaster," she sang as she jumped out onto the stone floor. She wasn't looking at Albus but straight past him, to the portrait of Armando Dippet, who bowed his head slightly. "And good morning, Albus." 

"How did you-" Albus shook. 

"Armando gave me access years ago," she said dreamily as she glided to the portrait of the old headmaster. She ran her fingers along the smooth paint strokes that made up the hem of his dark robes. 

"You keep the frame covered," Armando said, hurt flickering in his rich voice. 

"I keep all my frames covered," Priscilla returned pointedly. 

"I come every day and never do I see you." 

"That's how I want it," she replied quietly. 

"Well I will always try." 

"Perhaps one day you will get lucky," she whispered. 

"One day," he smiled warmly as he turned and walked away, disappearing from view. 

Priscilla kept her hand there for a moment with her head hung before she coughed and with a slight smile, turned to Albus. "How is our bride?" 

"I'm not sure what just-" 

"Another time," she smiled sweetly. "May I sit?" 

"Of course, of course," Albus ushered her into the seat opposite him, fussing and jumping like a young man trying to please his mother-in-law. 

"Would you like a-" 

"No. Thank you," Priscilla said quickly. "I've come to talk to you about Minerva." 

Albus nodded slowly as his face paled. His blue eyes become heavy with grief and guilt and his shoulders sagged a little. He looked like a poor, broken man; a man who had done so much wrong in the world that he was damned forever. His eyes were heavy as he looked up at her; they pleaded with her not to beat him any other, not to drag him through the fire and thorns again. 

She softened her face and lowered her shoulders. This poor man, she thought, how can ignore such a plainly shattering soul? 

"Minerva?" He finally asked softly, he winced ever so slightly at her name. Had Priscilla not been such an observant person, she would have missed it. "I hope I have not offended her-" 

"I'm sure you haven't," Priscilla said. "I haven't seen her, I've been indoors actually, until my daughter came and disturbed my peace," she added regretfully. 

His eyes widened with alarm. "Priscilla, I can only say that I am endeavoring to right my wrongs-" 

"What wrongs?" 

"I'm sure that Poppy has told you," Albus replied quietly. "She knows that what I am, she is the one who finally made me see it." 

Priscilla shook her head. "She knows nothing. What can she know? She had a mother, a father, both of whom adored her. She has always had friends, boys buzzed around her, she fell in love, married, had a son and now lives in harmony in a quaint cottage that she leaves every morning to come and work in a job that she cherishes. What can she know about life?" She sighed. "I love her, she has made me very proud but I'm afraid that she has missed the mark with this one."

He cocked his head a little. "Priscilla, I don't understand-" 

"I'm rather proud of myself," Poppy interrupted lightly. "In the space of ten minutes I have managed to go beyond the understanding of the greatest wizard in our time." 

"I am no so great," he chucked softly. "Believe me." 

"Poppy is wrong," Priscilla said seriously. "The fact that you cannot see that astounds me. Go back to your wife, Albus, and end this madness." 

"If Poppy has seen you then you no doubt know everything that has gone on these past decades," his voice was low and thick, full of shame. "How can I back to her after what I have done? Surely you are as disgusted with me as I am with myself. How can I allow myself to be happy?" 

"I'm not disgusted," Priscilla soothed. "And I wasn't at the time either." 

His head shot up, his eyes wide and flashing with confusion. "At what time?" 

"Does no one give me any credit?" She snapped. "I've known all along. I knew it was your baby that Minerva terminated. I knew the minute I saw her in your arms. The way that they wrapped around her, the grey of your skin - I also know what kind of man you are, Albus and I know that for you to go against morality, the rules and society, you must have loved her." 

"I wish-" he stopped. "No, I've stopped wishing. I should not have acted on my feelings, though you are right and I did love her. I loved her then and I love her now, I can't rid of it, I can't forget it-" 

"And the other women?" Priscilla questioned, her brow arched. 

He coughed and shuffled in his seat awkwardly. "They-" 

"Mean nothing?" 

"No. They are...a crux I cannot overcome," Albus admitted. "But none of them have ever threatened Minerva's place in my heart." 

"And Minerva knew about this?" 

"Yes," he answered. "Though, I didn't think she did until the night we found out about Eleanor and Severus. But she looked at me with sympathy and understanding. I knew then, at that moment, that no woman like her has ever walked the Earth and never will again when she leaves it." 

Priscilla sighed. "So far, all I have heard are excuses. You need to find her, you need to-" 

"I need to leave her alone!" Albus cried, storming from his seat and fleeing towards the window. "I need to stay away, I need to let her carry on with her life. She shouldn't have to suffer the rest of her life being married to me!" 

"She is suffering now!" Priscilla shouted. "You think that," she pointed to the door as if Minerva stood behind it, "is not suffering?" 

"It will pass-" 

"It's been three years!" 

"You don't understand-" 

"Do not presume to know what I do and do not understand," Priscilla said sharply. "I am telling you to go back to Minerva because I was once...Oh it was an age ago but I do understand. In my youth, I was you, I thought I was a monster and my victim, my Minerva was the man who stands behind you." 

Albus turned, although he knew exactly stood there. The empty frame of Armando Dippet loomed over them. "Armando?" 

"Armando was the one," Priscilla whispered. "I knew it and I ruined it. When I first started here, young and bright, confident with my appointment, I set my eyes on that man and I won him. And I loved him. I was going to marry him until I became too cocky one night and in a stubborn, childish rage, I slept with Poppy's father and found myself in a delicate condition. I grew up in that moment, the moment that I knew that I had wasted everything in one moment. I could hardly live with myself - I was cruel, I was a whore. The guilt was suffocating," she paused for a moment and inhaled deeply. "I thought that he was better off without me. He begged, he promised to bring the child up but I went - I thought it was best for him. I married Frank, I had Poppy and I continued to work where I fell in love, just so I could hold onto the memory of it. I thought that I had done the right thing, that I had redeemed myself by leaving the one that I betrayed," she got to her feet and with a heavy, painful steps, she walked over to Albus and touched his arm gently. "I was wrong, Albus. It turns out that everybody suffered - Frank didn't want a baby, or a wife, and he punished me for it for the whole of our marriage. And Armando. I broke Armando's heart and he never healed. I made the wrong decision... Albus, she wants you to love her. To tell her that you love her. Don't you see that saying that simply thing will wash away anything of regret in the past?" 

Albus swayed on his heels thoughtfully before he sighed. "The circumstances were different," he said quietly. 

"Hardly!" Priscilla snorted impatiently. "Are you just going to stand there like an imbecile? For God sake, Dumbledore, are you going to live the rest of your life like this? What have you done that is so shameful that it should ruin three lives?" 

"I've spoken about this enough!" Albus shouted, his face suddenly twisted with anger. "This is what I want! And I am done trying to argue with everybody-" 

"Do you love her?" Priscilla demanded. 

"It doesn't matter-"

"Do you love her!" Priscilla cried. 

"Yes," he whispered. 

"Then that is all I need," she said as she rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her. 


	32. The Reckoning

She knew nothing about Priscilla berating Albus in his office. 

She had spent the night packing up her things until the rooms were painfully bare. Every memory was boxed up, every photo in it's frame lovingly wrapped up in tissue paper and put out of sight. The sofas were shrunk as well as the beds; her wardrobes were empty, the kitchen cupboards cleared out. She'd cleaned until the knees were sore - washing the floors, wiping the skirting boards, beating the rugs. Every room now smelled of fresh, strong vinegar. It was now a blank canvas, still and dark. 

Before she left, she pulled the delicate gold ring from her finger and placed it on the mantel piece. She had never taken it off before but with it, a heavy weight lifted and new air stretched her lungs. She left no note, she didn't know what to say, nobody wanted an explanation anymore, anyway. 

She didn't look back as she closed the door. 

***************************************************************************************************************************************************

Moly Weasley was glad that finally, after five days of rain, the sun was shining. 

It meant that she could open her windows and doors, let the boys outside and busy herself whilst listening the songs of her children's playtime. With the pots being washed with the brush and the carpet being swept with the sweeper, she was upstairs airing the beds when she heard the excited cry of her sons in welcome. The twins were cheering whilst Percy was chatting quickly about his recent accomplishments whilst the elder boys courteously offered to take the visitors bags. 

Molly quickly hurried to the bathroom, smoothed her red hair and hoped that her iron pinny was presentable enough. She could hardly get changed when their was somebody at the door - with bags! Oh, she hoped that it wasn't one of Arthur's relations, she hadn't the time to put on a false smile and hadn't the energy to make the effort to seem pleased that they had arrived unannounced. As she ran down the stairs she called out, "Bill, who is it, darling?" 

"It's only me," came the familiar voice. "Don't worry." 

"Aunt Minerva!" Molly cried, with a large smile. It wasn't false - she hadn't seen much of Minerva in a long time and she enjoyed her company. With five children she hadn't much time in the day to talk to anybody and when Arthur came home, he was tired and was quite content to sit all evening in the living room with his legs stretched out and his eyes closed. 

"I hope that I'm not intruding," Minerva said apologetically. "I just thought-"

"Why do you have bags?" Molly raised a brow at the two bags held in Minerva's hands. "Several bags?" She added as she saw Bill and Charlie pull in another one each. 

"You see I've-" 

"Boys, go back outside!" Molly ordered as she saw Minerva's face pale and her bright eyes grow misty. "Play nicely, I'll call you in at lunch time." She waited as the boys left, shoulders stooped because they knew that Minerva had something important to say, annoyed because they would not be privy to it. 

"I've left the school," Minerva said quietly. "And I'm not going back."

"I see," Molly nodded, though she didn't understand. 

"Do you really?" 

"No, I don't," Molly admitted. "You love your job and Albus is there." 

"Precisely," Minerva said tightly. "Albus will always be there. I need to get away from him, I've waited for too long," she sighed as she sank into the nearest seat in the long kitchen. She leaned her arm on it, her other hand hung defeatedly at her side. "If I stay there, I'll always be waiting. And I'm not a foolish young girl any more. I should start acting my age and stop pining after a man who clearly doesn't want me." 

"But-"

Minerva lifted her hand. "You won't change my mind. Let me tell you, I feel better, I really do. Leaving the castle, leaving our home, I already feel fresher. My mind is clearer, I can actually think about something else other than my estranged husband. It's...freeing, Molly, I've never felt so free," she smiled. 

It was true. She did feel free. She felt as if she had been living half a life. Now that she had taken herself out of it, she could see in, she could see what everybody else was seeing and she knew that she had done the right thing. She loved Albus, she always would, but now it wasn't so over powering, so consuming. She had lost him and as soon as she had closed the door on her home, she'd felt the soft trickle of acceptance. She had tried, she'd forgiven him every sin and still it wasn't to be. She couldn't do anymore and she found that suddenly, she wasn't willing to. Everything was give and take but she had gave and gave and gave for so long, condemning herself to the fate that she would never take anything. Enough was enough - she had to be a person again, a real human being, that felt everything, saw everything and drank in everything that was around her. 

She could finally appreciate Eleanor completely, she could finally notice little things that had changed about her since she'd become a wife - the light in her eyes, the way her smile splayed further across her face. She could appreciate Molly's boy, their little laughs, their inquisitive natures, their humour. She even noticed how the grass was a different shade of green here, how dandelions laced the grass rather than the daisies that sprouted at Hogwarts. She was Minerva McGonagall again, after decades of being Minerva Dumbledore, a person, she now realised, that she had never really been. Mrs Dumbledore had been a dream and she had woken up quickly and suddenly it was done. She had to stop dreaming and it didn't take much effort to stop, either. 

"I don't really know what to say," Molly said. "If this is really what you want-"

"Well, I can't spend the whole of my life waiting for him, can I?" Minerva quipped. 

"Minerva...He does love you, you know that?" 

"I think he has clearly shown that he doesn't. You and Eleanor just don't want to see that that part of life has ended," Minerva said evenly. "I think that you clutch onto to make you feel better. I've come to terms with it."

"Will you ever go back?"

"One day, I love my job, but right now it just isn't right. I'm not putting my heart in it and that isn't fair to the students."

"Where will you go?"

"I was hoping that I could stay here for a few days-"

"Of course!" 

"Thank you, and then I am going to my mother's house. I'm not going there yet, it's miserable until the summer," Minerva said. 

"Let me help you take your bags upstairs, you can have Bill's room-"

"Please don't move out Bill on my account," Minerva said quickly. "I'll sleep on the sofa-"

"No you won't!" Molly cried. "Bill will be fine with Charlie and Percy, come on."

Molly quickly levitated most of Minerva's bags before Minerva could argue. She was quiet the rest of the day, fussing around Minerva, helping her unpack and making her tea. Minerva was thankful that she didn't question any further - there would be enough argument from Eleanor when she eventually found out and Minerva doubted that it would be long before she did. 

Minerva tried not to think about Eleanor and the endless explanations that she would have to give. The boys were a good distraction and despite Molly's protests they hovered around her for most of the afternoon. They stood in awe as she entertained them by transforming into her tabby self, they shrieked with delight as she ran off and they chased her. They sat at her feet as she turned her shoes into slippers, they clapped their hands as she dished out sweets from her bag. They were dear boys, their hair as bright as Molly's, their faces sweetly round like Arthur's.

She had forgotten what a good distraction children could be. She remembered when Eleanor was a child - she had kept Minerva so busy that Minerva had never had time to think about the fact that Albus wasn't there. She knew that when he wasn't there he was at the 'ministry' - Minerva had learned quickly that that meant with another woman. She thanked God that Eleanor had been there, otherwise she would have gone mad sitting alone in the dark, wondering if he would fall in love with this one and leave her. 

Even thinking about it now, she realised what a fool she had been for all those years to put up with it. She had felt like she'd had no choice - she wanted to be with Albus and that had been the only way. She knew now that she had done it because she had wanted to live the life she had dreamt about when she was seventeen. She so desperately wanted to make it work but it seemed foolish now. She could never had had that, she just wished that it hadn't taken her so long to realise it. 

It was strange. She knew that this was what she wanted but she also knew that never wanted anyone else. She knew that Albus was the one, she would forever only be his wife. She was too old for all of that anyway - she was practically a grandmother. No, she didn't want all of that anyway. She now just wanted to live in peace, she just wanted to be happy and she hoped that she could learn to be happy without her husband. 

She was shocked when she heard Arthur as he whistled up the pathway. The day had flown by. The sun was setting, pink and hazy and she could hear the soft song of the owls. The hardest day was over. She had managed to leave with as little trauma to herself as she could have hoped for. 

The boys ran to him, flocking around him as he leant over to kiss his wife. He patted their heads and Molly called for them to sit at the table. It wasn't until he put his briefcase down by the stairs and looked up that he noticed Minerva and she had hide a smile as she noticed as flash of fear dark across his eyes. 

Arthur was nervous around Minerva. She was like the formidable mother-in-law that every man complained about, although, thank God, she was not as interfering. It didn't help that he still saw her as the strict, quick tongued professor nor that she had caught him Molly several times in very uncompromising positions...

"Minerva," he smiled shakily. "I didn't know that you were coming."

"I'm afraid that I just turned up, out of the blue you see," Minerva said apologetically. She liked Arthur, he was kind, loving and loyal. She found it amusing the way he clattered about her, as if he were afraid of a rebuke or getting lines during Quidditch practice. She respected him as a man, as a husband and father and felt a little guilty that she had simply turned up in his house, asking for a room. 

"Lovely!" He beamed. "We hardly get to see you now. When do you go back to the school." 

"I-" Minerva began but Molly coughed and shot her husband a look as she indicated to the children with her head. 

"We'll talk about that later," he said quietly. "It's very nice that you've come though." 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

"I should be the one to tell him," Poppy said quietly. She clasped her fingers around the ring that sat in her palm. 

"But will you break it gently?" Severus said. 

"I'm not an idiot," Poppy retorted. 

Priscilla scoffed but remained quiet. 

"When you tell him," Snape said slowly. "Try to be a little understanding. He won't take the blow very well." 

Poppy nodded and left her mother and Snape in Minerva's empty, echoing living room. 

Her feet felt like lead as she made her way to Albus's office. This was all her doing and she had tried to make amends when it was too late. She wondered why Minerva hadn't send anything - Poppy had no idea that she planning to go. But, she probably didn't think at all and had just done it on a whim this morning. Poppy had thought that she'd be jubilant - finally Minerva was seeing sense but instead, her heart was in her mouth, her stomach churned and her head was pounding. Her teeth were clenched together in fear- what if Albus was angry at her? He should be, but what would he do? Would this be the final straw? Would he finally shout at her, perhaps duel her, because of this? 

With a heavy heart she knocked loudly on the door. She felt the colour drain from her face as Albus smiled at her to come in. He was always so welcoming, even after everything. 

"Poppy," he said. "I didn't expect to see you here. That's two Pomfrey's I've had in my office today." 

"It seems like a lifetime ago that I was a Pomfrey," she said quietly. And how uncomplicated life had been then! She thought. 

He looked at her expectantly, he was waiting for her to speak but she couldn't find any words. Instead, she strode to the desk and gently placed the ring in front of him. He recognised it immediately, though it took a minute for the implication of it wash over him. She knew when it did, for his face turned a sickly grey and he sighed. 

"Where has she gone?" He whispered. 

"i don't know," Poppy replied, her eyes fixed to his. "She didn't say anything to me." 

"Well thank you for bringing to me." 

"Headmaster...Albus, I'm so sorry. I didn't understand - I've made such a great mistake." 

He smiled at her kindly. "We all make mistakes, Poppy, but I have made the greatest."

"You can shout at me, in fact, you should scream bloody murder at me-"

"For what?" He countered. "I have done this."

"Albus-" She wanted to say something but...there were no words. She simply hung her head, shaking it as she did and fled. 

When the door was closed behind her, Albus let his head fall onto the hard desk with a thud. He groaned loudly, unable to process the pain that was ripping him apart completely. His made a tight fist around the ring, digging it into his palm. 

She was gone. She was gone. She had finally done what he wanted - he never thought it would hurt this much. Pain mingled with guilt, with shame, with self - hatred. It was all over. After years and years, she had finally done what was best for her. But that didn't make it any better. He hated himself for being selfish to the end but he wished that she was here. He wished-

"Damn it!" He shouted, pounded his fist on the table. 

"What have you done, old boy?" Armando asked sadly from behind him. 

Albus shook his head. He couldn't talk. His throat was tight, he felt the bile rising from his stomach. 

He had lost her. She was gone. 

"Minerva..." 

 


	33. Cousins

Eleanor had been dividing her time between her mother and her father for two years. In the Summer, she went to the Dumbledore cottage, where Albus stayed with his brother, surprisingly welcomed by Poppy, who seemed to never have done enough for the man. At Christmas, she went to the burrow, where Minerva stayed with the Weasley's. She had never quite gotten round to leaving for her mother's house and she realised that it would terribly lonely if she did and so she had stayed. 

Eleanor had found it strange at first. Her mother, who had been hurting for years and walking around like a lost child, was full of spirit and warmth again, whilst her father was suffering. He worked all of the time, hardly ate, hardly slept. He was like a machine, he just kept following the motions of living rather than feeling it. He never asked after Minerva, just as Minerva never asked after Albus. They were completely separate, it was if they had never met and neither knew of the others existence. After two years, Eleanor had learned to deal with it and it seemed normal to keep one of them a secret and she had quickly learned not to mention them to each other. It was an unwritten rule. 

Nearly two years after Minerva had left Hogwarts, Eleanor had had a baby, a lovely, bright little girl whose grandparents completely doted on her. She was the stars in the sky to the both of them. Eleanor knew that the baby was a welcome distraction and she hoped that the little girl would bring life back in her father and be company enough for her mother. 

Severus was looking after the baby while Eleanor went to help William move into his new home. He had recently gotten a very good job at the Ministry and had decided to move out of his childhood home. Poppy had been grief stricken, though she had never shown it to William and had only ever cried about it in Aberforth's presence. William, however, was excited and had spent a lot of time on the little two bedroom house that he had worked so hard to get. 

It was a bright day, very warm and Eleanor was grateful when she walked through the front door and found that William had placed a cooling charm on the whole house. "You know a bit of clever magic then," she teased. 

He threw a dust sheet at her. "Are you implying that a Dumbledore is not all powerful?" He grinned. 

"Never!" She laughed. 

"Come on, come and make yourself useful," he said as he threw a box at her. "Arrange it how you like, I'm not very good at that womanly stuff." 

"You sound just like Uncle Aberforth," Eleanor muttered. "It's only a few vases and lamps, it's not hard to put them somewhere so that they look nice." 

"Thanks," William grumbled. "How's baby?" 

"Oh, she's wonderful!" Eleanor beamed. "Severus is with her today and I think that they are both quite content." 

William was polishing the wood floor, or rather, he was instructing the cloth to do so. "I'm sure that they are! How is Severus getting along, now that he's a father?" 

"He's happy," Eleanor replied. "Though he becomes increasingly worried every day." 

"Wouldn't you?" 

Eleanor simply nodded. She didn't know how her husband dealt with the pressure that was his life. He seemed to be called to meeting after meeting with that hideous man and his minions. When Severus came home, he was drained. He never spoke about the horrors that he had to witness and Eleanor didn't ask. She had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to talk about them, he would. He remained silent, painting his face with a smile for their daughter. As soon as she went to sleep, he became pale and drawn, as if he was making a great effort. Eleanor tried to comfort him, tried to be understanding but he would just squeeze her arm and tell her that he was fine. She took it, but she worried about him. She wasn't sure how much it would take before he cracked. 

She was still glad that she married him though. They were so different and yet they got on so well. They worked together, building their own pattern of daily life and she never once questioned his love for her. He adored her, as she adored him, and she knew that she had made the right choice. She would never regret it. 

"William, I'm hungry-"

"Wait!" William held up his hand. "Did you here that?" 

They both drew their wands. 

William cried: "Eleanor!" But there was nothing either of them could do. The flash of green filled the room. 

Afterward, they lay still on the newly polished floor, hand in hand. 

 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Minerva hadn't seen Albus in two years. When he walked into Molly's kitchen with Poppy clutching to his arm, she knew that something was wrong. 

Both were pale, Poppy's eyes were wide, blinded and dumb-founded. Albus's mouth was thin, straightly set and he closed his eyes as if in great pain. 

Minerva stood up immediately, a queer feeling of utter, raw dread swimming in her. "What's happened?"

"Minerva-" Poppy said but she threw her hand over her mouth and rushed for the sink. She vomited painfully, drily as she cough and spluttered between moans of pain. 

"You should sit down," Albus said quietly. 

"I can't, not when you two look like that," Minerva's breathe caught in her throat. 

"Minerva, you should sit," he said and Minerva heard the chair scrape across the tiled floor until it brushed against the back of her legs. "They - William and Eleanor- they found them-"

"No," Minerva shook her head. She knew. She knew by the look in Albus's eye and from the wails of Poppy. "No. Eleanor?" Her legs caved and she fell backwards onto the chair. "Eleanor?" 

"She-"

Minerva held up her hand. She didn't want to hear the words. They should not be uttered. "The baby?" She whispered. 

"Severus has taken her away, she's hiding somewhere, I don't know." 

Minerva nodded. She pursed her mouth. Nothing was going to come out. She did not feel the urge to shout, to scream or wail. Her hands were shaking, her skin was cold and covered with a fine, cold sweat but her eyes were dry. She just kept nodding, glancing around her. "Today?" She asked, her mouth dry. 

"Today." 

She continued to nod, her lips now pulled over her teeth. And then it came. The sudden rush. The bitterness. It swept across her and her eyes were running, her body was shaking. It came suddenly, as if a damn of pain had suddenly burst within her and she covered her face with her hands. "My girl," she moaned. "Eleanor, the sweet darling. I have been laughing and breathing whilst she-" 

She didn't know what it was but something within her brought her shakily to her feet. She half-fell, half-stumbled towards Albus before she fell against him. She felt his arms around her as they both collapsed to their knees. She was crying, sobbing, she was aware of that, but she couldn't quite connect the sound of her sobs to her body. All she could feel was pain. It seemed so unreal - how could her little girl no longer be in the world?

Albus kissed the top of Minerva's head, tightening his arms around her. Her slim body against him felt like Eleanor's, the same slight shoulders and long torso, and he closed his eyes, trying to imagine that it was his daughter in his arms. 

It had all happened so quickly. He would never fully remember the details - he would remember Poppy in his office, her eyes wide, her mouth opened but only emitting inhumane, guttural cries. She wailed that she couldn't find Aberforth, that William was dead, that he had been found with Eleanor. He hadn't quite understood her. For a moment, it was if there was a wall between them and he couldn't hear anything she said but could only see the twisting of her face. He would never remember arriving at the Burrow, nor how he had got there with Poppy on his arm. 

He would always remember Minerva's face. He would always remember that in it, in the face that he saw every night before he went to sleep, he saw the world shatter. He saw the heartache in her eyes, he saw the incomprehensibility of the news in her wrangled mouth. He would never forget it, he would never forget how she had cried - raw, heaving sobs that echoed about the room. 

Most of all, he would never forget the emptiness. He would never forget the feeling that there was nothing left to live for - for what was life without their Eleanor in it? Bright, loving Eleanor, who had fought so hard for her parents happiness, who had made them prouder than anyone ever could. Eleanor, the flesh of theirs, in whose veins the beautifully mingled blood of Dumbledore and Mcgonagall had flowed. 

"Where were we?" Minerva whispered. "Where were we? Why were we not with her? What were we doing? We could have saved her, we could have! She'd be here!" Minerva shook him as she shouted. "What were we doing? How could we not have known?" 

"We could never have known."

"I should have!" Minerva shrieked. "I should have been there! I'm her mother, I should have known? I've failed her! How could such a young, beautiful soul be taken from the world and yet I remain? Why is my life more precious? I should be the one who no longer lives, she should be here, in my place, her heart beating strong-"

"Minerva, you cannot blame yourself," Albus placed a warm hand on her wet cheek. He looked into her red, swollen eyes. "The world does not work like that. It does not take into account what is fair and what isn't." 

She shook her head. "Take me instead," she whispered, before she fell against him again, falling into a world of harrowing darkness amidst un-earthly cries. 


	34. A Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Three - The Coming of the End
> 
> Twelve years later...

Minerva hurried down the pathway that led to a shining black door. She was early, though the family inside would hardly know that, they were not expecting her. She had spent the last ten minutes perched on the wall opposite the well kept, light brick house. It was a nice house, very muggle, with neatly positioned windows, bight white net curtains and a perfectly level, bright green lawn. She was on Hogwarts business, carrying out the duty that she had undertaken upon her return to the school. 

She had returned to Hogwarts exactly five years after she had left. Two of those had been spent in a deep and black depression. She had lived in the void that stood between life and death. For two years the Sun didn't shine, spring didn't come and birds didn't sing. She had locked herself up in her mother's house, quickly fleeing the Burrow, unable to abide living with such a charming and warm family. It would have been a constant reminder that hers now lived in another world, that she would only be able to live it in her memories. 

She hadn't been able to bring herself to talk to Albus during that time. Deep down, she knew that they would only ever be able to comfort each other for they were the only ones who had known Eleanor for all of her life. They were the only ones who could understand each other's loss but she hadn't been able to find the strength to be in contact with him. His face reminded her of Eleanor and she couldn't look upon it. During those bleak years, there was not one photo of Eleanor out. Minerva couldn't keep looking at the face that was forever gone from the world. She had felt that no words from Albus could have made that better and so she isolated herself completely and lived through what seemed would be an eternal night. 

She wasn't sure when night became day but slowly, she realised that the Sun was rising and that it was time to carry on. She had little choice but to live on and wait for the day when she would see her daughter again. She soon realised that she needed Hogwarts. She needed to teach, she needed to throw herself into something and give it her all. Albus had welcomed her back unquestioningly and she had resumed her post as if she had never left it. 

It had been difficult for her to be around Snape, to begin with. As soon as he had heard news of Eleanor's death, he had taken his daughter and ran. They heard nothing from him for months and when he did eventually return, he returned without the child. Despite Albus demanding to know where the girl was, Snape had refused. He reassured them that she was safe but told them that he would never tell him where she was. It wasn't safe for anyone to know but him, he declared, and he could not suffer the loss of the last link to Eleanor that remained in the world. 

Hogwarts had saved her and she was grateful for anything the school might throw at her to keep her busy. She was reminded of that fact as she grasped the polished gold knocker and banged it loudly on the door. 

The small, brown haired woman who answered looked surprised. She was polite enough to smile though, a wide smile that covered most of the bottom of her round face. "I'm sorry," she said. "But we are in need of no trade-"

"I'm not selling anything," Minerva said quickly, used to the usual speech about not needing any services that muggles offered when they knocked on strangers doors. "I'm here to talk about your daughter's schooling. I come from a...prestigious establishment that would like to offer her a place."

The woman furrowed her brow. "But my daughter hasn't taken any entrance exams. We've put in an application for St Anne's, up the road."

"We do not request an exam," Minerva replied patiently. "Please," she smiled. "I am telling the truth."

"What is the school called?" 

"Hogwarts." 

"Strange...I've never heard of it," the woman said thoughtfully. "Perhaps my daughter sent her own application."

"The school is in Scotland," Minerva explained. "And we have your daughters name on our list." 

"Please come in," the women stepped aside. "I'll call my daughter and ask her." 

Minerva was led into a long, L-shaped living room before the woman rushed away. It was painted lavender with pale carpet. The furniture sat underneath a bay window and a large pine dining table stood around the corner. The walls were lined with photo's, depicting a mousey haired little girl as she grew from baby to toddler to child. She was a pretty girl, with a long face, slightly pointed chin and large hazel eyes. As Minerva stared, she realised that there was something familiar about the child. She had a face that Minerva was sure she had seen before, only she couldn't put her finger on it. The girls hair was an unfamiliar shade, her pale skin could have beens anyones but her eyes - no precisely the colour, Minerva concluded, but the shape. Minerva felt as if she was looking at someone, as if she had looked at those eyes every day but still...she couldn't work out who. 

"My daughter will be down in a moment," the woman said from behind Minerva. "Would you like a cup of tea?" 

"No, thank you," Minerva declined politely. "Your daughter is lovely. Are you sure you've never heard of Hogwarts?" She questioned. Perhaps this girls grandparent had been a student years ago and that was why she recognised her face. 

"No, I haven't," the woman replied. 

With a slight sigh and forgetting about the girl, Minerva went into her rehearsed speech about the school. She had made this visits every year for nearly a decade and by now, she knew exactly what to say. She knew how to deal with the non-believers, the ones who cried that Minerva must be mad and ordered her from her house. She knew when to catch the fainters, when to raise her brow at the cacklers. Once she had explained everything, she pulled out her wand and changed a lampshade into a little potted plant, or the kettle into a pumpkin - something simple. Part of her wished that she could just turn up at the door as a cat and change there and then but it was considered to be too much too soon. Though why she should only be allowed to demonstrate silly magic (as she liked to put it) and not some sort of powerful spell that would show that it wasn't all a joke, she didn't know. 

When she turned the nearest lamp into a tall, thick stemmed plant that sported pretty dark purple flowers, the woman nodded quietly. "So you are saying that my daughter can do this?" She asked evenly. 

Minerva sighed inwardly. This woman was practical enough to believe something when she saw it. Minerva appreciated these ones. "Eventually, and much more."

"I see," the woman bit her bottom lip for a moment. "I didn't think it was real when he told me," she whispered, her eyes darting to the door to make sure her daughter wasn't there. "I expected to see her set fire to things or change the weather but nothing like that ever happened. I thought that he must have been mad, or high." 

"What do you mean? Who told you about our world?" Minerva asked. 

"The man who-" but she had to stop, for the girl appeared in the doorway. 

She was tall, long limbed with legs that were so long that she hadn't quite got used to them yet. Her smile was wide, slightly nervous and she had two round, neat little apples in her cheeks. In person, her eyes were a green hazel, with flecks of dark brown. They were wide, slightly pinched at the corners. Still Minerva didn't know why this girl seemed familiar. It wasn't until the girl furrowed her brown that Minerva saw it. 

It came over her like a tower of stone falling on her. It caught her breathe. The girls brown brows were furrowed quizzically as she regarding Minerva and that was a slight hint of skepticism. She had seen it before, why she looked upon it every day! It was Snape's. That look belonged completely to Snape. 

"You know," Minerva said slowly, her voice beginning to crack. "I think that it would be best if you and I-"

"Love, go back upstairs for ten minutes," the woman smiled. "And I'll call you back down." 

Minerva turned to survey another, recent (she concluded), picture of the girl as her mother spoke. She could see it as clear as day now - her eyes were a complete blend of Snape's dark brown and Eleanor's stark green. Her mouth, the slightly sarcastic twist of it, was Snape's, long and quite thin. Minerva didn't know how she hadn't realised it straight away - never before in a child had it's parents faces been so equally moulded together. Her pale skin was her father's though the bright shine in her cheeks belonged to Eleanor. 

"You seemed so keen to meet her a minute ago," the woman said quietly from behind her. 

Minerva reluctantly turned away from the picture. It was so still, she had been waiting for it to move and reveal the light in the girls eyes that was so like her mothers. But muggles did not have such a luxury. "The man," she began slowly, as she turned her head. "Who was the man who were talking about...before?" 

"I'm sorry but I don't think it's wise to talk about my personal matted to a stranger-"

"Was he pale? With near black eyes? Did he talk Between slightly curled lips?" Minerva could tell that her voice was growing higher with irritation but she had neither the strength nor the inclination to try to hide it. 

"How do you-"

"I am right then," Minerva interjected. "I know the man. I had no idea that he had made plans..." For a moment she wondered if Albus had known. He knew many things and kept them from her. If he had kept this a secret, she would kill him, but she didn't truly believe that he had known- he had been so angry at Severus when he had returned to the school without the baby, he had scorned him when he had refused to say where she was- no, she was sure that he didn't know. 

"He came on evening," she said quietly. "He said that he knew that we wanted to adopt... He said nothing about who the baby belonged to. He simply gave her to us and left. He has never been back." 

Minerva nodded slowly. "I see." She knew that she couldn't simply say that this woman's daughter was her grandchild. She couldn't tell her that she wanted to take her, to take her home. She couldn't simply storm in and crash through this family's world. Despite longing to. No, instead she simply smiled, as best she could and continued on with the same explanations she gave to all muggle borns. 

When it was done and she left the house, she hurried away and down the road before she collapsed against the nearest wall, her chest heaving as she fought for breathe. She welcomed the cold the air, the moaning wind as it whipped about her skirts. A bit of air was what she had needed in that house, a bit of space to take everything in. 

When the girl, Hermione (She hadn't thought about that name for years) had come down and started talking, Minerva had had to stifle a scream. 

Everything about her had reminded Minerva of Eleanor. She moved her delicate little hands animately as she spoke, her laugh was like a song, she sat with her long back straight. Her voice reminded Minerva of Eleanor, sweet, smooth with a slight hint of determination, a little shake of nervousness.If she closed her eyes, Minerva had felt like she was sitting in a room with Eleanor. It was as if she were living in a memory and Minerva had not been able to get enough. She kept talking to her, asking questions, trying to find out if Hermione's mind worked like Eleanor's had. It was clear that the girl had a temperament much like Eleanor's, playful, keene to please but there was an element in Minerva in the girl as well - the girl clearly wanted to succeed. She would be studious, Minerva could tell, she only hoped that Hermione might be a little more outgoing than Minerva had been so that she would be able to make friends as easily as Eleanor had. 

When it had been time to go, Minerva had left with a heavy heart. She could have sat there all night, getting to know the child that had come into Minerva's life and vanished within moments. Minerva wanted to know what she had missed, she wanted to know every detail of the girls childhood - when she learn to talk, walk, read? But of course, she would never have been able to ask those things and so she left. It had felt strange that Minerva could not pull the child to her before she left, or kiss her little cheek. It was as if she had a strange right to do it but of course, Minerva knew, she didn't really. She had no rights to anything at all. 

As she gathered herself, and her breathing become normal, Minerva realised that the evening edging into a dark night. Checking her surroundings, she apparated silently and when she opened her eyes, she was looking upon the castle. It seemed that the castle would always bring her family back to her, in some way or another and that she would never be able to hide from it. 

She quickly marched up the hill, towards the doors and made her way to Albus's office, which she had not stepped inside for nearly fifteen years. 

 


	35. Holding Back

She could hear Albus talking to Fawkes as she waited outside the door before she knocked. She could already feel the warmth from the eternal fire that creeped under the door and the sweet smell that followed Albus every where. He ate took many sweets and took too much sugar in his drinks but Minerva could no longer comment upon it. She was his wife in name only and so she had no right. She sighed. She had little rights in anything anymore it seemed. 

Grimacing slightly, she lifted her hand and knocked as confidently as she could. The loud, sturdy knock of her knuckles echoed around the hallway and she winced. She had knocked too loudly. He called out in welcome merrily and with her back gracefully straight, she glided in. 

She could see a little shock cross his face as she smiled at him weakly, but it quickly vanished into a wide, if somewhat shaky, smile. Looking at him properly for the first time in years, she could see that he looked tired and worn out. Beneath his merry eyes, that had lost their bright twinkle, clung dark grey circles. His mouth looked tight and pursed and his skin a little dull and grey. She suddenly felt worried for him, after all, she did still love him, and she hoped that he wasn't ill. He wasn't likely to tell her if he felt unwell, or if he was overworked, but she hoped that he had enough sense to recognise when he was and to do something about it. She felt the pangs of heart ache as she remembered being a young wife that fussed over her husband. She smiled slightly when she remembered him complaining that she fussed too much. She had to fuss, it was a drive within her to keep him well. 

"I'm sorry to intrude, Albus," she said quietly. 

"You could never intrude, my dear," he replied, still smiling. He kept her gaze as he indicated to her to take a seat. 

She could feel the unease between them as she sat down. He was only a foot away from her, in his direct vision. She couldn't look away, or suddenly start speaking to someone else. She shuffled slightly in her seat as she tried to calm her clanging heart. 

"Have you only just got back?" he asked. "It's late, was everything alright?" 

"I got held up," Minerva replied. "You see I went to visit the Granger's and-" she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. 

"Minerva!" He jumped from his seat and graduated to her.He knelt down at her side. When she opened her eyes, she saw that his face was full of deep and sincere concern. "What's wrong? You are not hurt or anything are you?" 

"No, no," She placed a hand on his arm. "I'm quite fine," she reassured. It was only when she noticed Albus look down at her hand with his brow slightly raised that she quickly pulled it away. "I'm sorry," she muttered, feeling her face grow a little hot. "I'm fine. Really. What I was saying was that I went to see the Granger's. Their daughter is on the list this year. Their daughter. Hermione." 

She watched as his questioning expression melted away into slight horror. He shot her a quick glance to which she nodded. His mouth dropped open. 

"You mean to say-"

"Yes!" Minerva cried. A great smile stretched across her face. "Oh, and she is lovely! She has the look of both of them, Eleanor and Snape, when you see her, you will see what I mean! And she is so bright and funny! What a quick mind, she had, oh, Albus-" the smile vanished as she looked at his ashen face. "What's wrong? We've found her, after all of these years!" 

Albus shook his head slowly. "But we can't-" He rose and turned away from her. 

Minerva jumped to her feet and caught Albus's arm. "I know what you are going to say," she said, her steely eyes catching his. "I've already thought it. But you must look past what we have missed. You must forget that we cannot be what we really should. We need to be grateful that we will be allowed to be her professors. We will get to see her, to teach her, to speak to her. When she speaks Albus...when she speaks, it is as if Eleanor is in the room. Please. You can't look at the negatives, you must see it for the good that it is." 

If he could, he would have squeezed her tightly. He hadn't missed Eleanor so much in a long time and he felt the sudden need to have Minerva in her arms, to thank her for trying to make him see the light. He had missed Minerva's way of looking at things and her determination to always see good - as a young girl she had been sure that they could make their love work and they had, until Albus had made his greatest mistake; as a young woman she had said that they could mend everything and be together, and they did, for many years. Minerva had been right about everything, it had been Albus that had ruined it, not her. She could see the good in every situation and Albus should trust her in this. 

"It is good," he said quietly. "Minerva, is she really like Eleanor?"

"So much so!" Minerva's eyes sparkled. "She moves like her, has a smile like hers! Oh, Albus, if only you could have seen. I just wanted to pull her to me and never let go!" 

"You know that you can't, don't you?" Albus asked softly. "We can't tear up everything that she knows. As far as she is concerned her mother  _is_ her mother, just as her father is. Besides, we cannot forget about Severus. She is his daughter after all, it is up to him to decide..."

Minerva scoffed, her mouth fetchingly pursed. "He took her away and left her there," Minerva said tightly. "Why should it be up to him?" 

Albus chuckled softly. "Sometimes, Minerva, you can be as petulant as a child," he smiled as she jutted her chin. "See?" 

"Hardly," she said dryly. "I'm just saying that Snape-"

"Severus," Albus muttered. 

" _Snape_ ," Minerva continued pointedly. "Has hardly done anything that would warrant him to be a father-" 

"He took the baby to safety," Albus countered quickly. "He took the baby as far away as possible. What more could we ask of him?" 

Minerva's shoulders sagged slightly with defeat. He was right, just as he always was with these matters. What else had she expected Snape to do? He could have been swallowed by the grief, just as she and Albus had been but instead he quickly thought on his feet and taken his baby away from peril. He couldn't have done anything more useful or selfless in that moment. 

"Are you going to talk to him about it?" Minerva asked. 

"I might, well I suppose I'll have to," he replied thoughtfully. "Shall I call you when I-"

"No!" Minerva cried quickly, feeling a rush of panic. 

"Why?" 

"I-" How did explain to him that she wasn't sure how much longer she could be in his company. How could she tell him that she was sure that it would take her months to stop thinking about this meeting, to forget how it felt to have her hand on his arm? It was silly, she knew, and that was why she didn't want to admit it. She still loved Albus completely, it had never changed but she was thankful that she now finally cope without him. She loved him but was no longer waiting for him. That didn't mean that this meeting hadn't thrown her though. 

"Minerva," he said quietly. "I know that we...Perhaps this can be a fresh start. We're older and wiser now, the life we had feels so long ago..."

She nodded. It felt like a lifetime ago and yet, whenever she thought about it, everything was still so fresh. Every moment seemed to mould into one, continuously on and on until it flickered before her eyes, tinged with that sweet rose-gold edging that framed her life before. Before she could continue thinking about it, however, she found her resolve, that streak of determination that shut her mind to it all. This was her life now. 

"Hardly wiser," she said with a half smile. "We were never meant to be wise, I don't think. But certainly older!" 

Albus chuckled softly. "Definitely older." 

"We'll talk to Snape," she conceded. "His opinion has to count." 

"It does."

"But it will be so difficult," Minerva admitted with a sigh. "Her being so close and us having to...be so indifferent." 

"It is what is best for her," Albus smiled sadly. "We must learn to hold back everything we feel. It isn't all over yet, there will come a time when she will need to be kept safely within the world of ignorance. We lost Eleanor because of her name, we cannot put that onto her daughter. She'll be another sitting target." 

"Were we selfish? Part of us knew that any child we brought into the world would never be...free from danger."

"I don't regret her for a minute," Albus said earnestly. "I only regret her short life, when we have been granted much longer ones." 

"Hermione's will be longer," Minerva declared defiantly. "I will see to that. No more mistakes, no more leaving things to chance. That is the only way that I can pay back everything I owe to Eleanor." 


	36. Snape

Severus had always been hated by his students. He wasn't bothered. They were in his classroom to learn, not to know the ins and outs of his life. He was aloof, unchanging throughout the years and while he took on his responsibilities of his role as head of house, zealously, he showed little compassion when it came to their calamities. 

There was little left within him to care. He had thought that a great weight would have been lifted with the defeat of the Dark Lord but that hope had been obliterated when Dumbledore had declared quite confidently that it wasn't over. Severus could see the reason in that - such a dark, powerful force, wasn't simply ridded off. When he came back, Severus would have to be the double agent again, going between the two powerful wizards like a toy is tugged between two children. And he would have to sit with the man that had killed his wife and laughed about it. 

"Dumbledore's daughter!" Riddle had shrieked with delight. "She fell as quickly and pathetically as the rest! Powerful blood, ha! You should have seen it, what a trophy, what a name to collect!" 

Severus could still see the glee in his face, the joy in the dark, inhuman eyes. It was the most difficult thing that he had had to suffer. When he had just wanted to shut himself and grieve, he had had to carry on as normal. He felt a great injustice - everyone else was given the chance to mourn a loved one but Severus had to carry on as if nothing had happened, as if the one person who had loved him completely hadn't just been murdered. 

Only, he hadn't just been grieving the loss of his wife. His daughter was gone as well. Before she came to the school, he hadn't seen her since the day that he had taken her to the muggle couple who had only been too grateful to take her. He had always known that she would come to Hogwarts but he had thought that eleven years was a long time. He should have known that really, eleven years in but a drop in the ocean of life. Those eleven years however, passed in a strange manner. They seemed to have dragged on and on as Severus suffered life with his wife but as soon as Hermione had stepped nervously through the Great Hall's door it was as if they had flashed by and Severus hadn't noticed. 

She was a tall girl, long limbed like her mother and grandmother, with a face the same shape as his own. Her skin was pale but with a sweet, pink blush at her round cheeks. Her eyes, wide and expressive, were her mothers and Severus found that he never,  _never_ _,_ looked at them. She was as studious as Minerva had been, a slight know it all but then...she did really know it all. She read textbook after textbook, believing that because she was muggle born she had missed out on something that the other students hadn't and therefore, she needed to catch up. What she didn't know, and would never know if Severus had anything to with it, was that she needn't bother to spend hours and hours thinking that she would catch up - she was already caught up. The others would spend their lives catching up to her because it was in her blood. 

When Hermione had arrived it created an even bigger rift between Severus and his in-laws. Dumbledore felt, that for the child's safety, she should be told at some point who she was. 

"Safety?" Severus had snarled. "What does that even mean? When he comes back, do you think that she will be safer in telling her who she is? Was Eleanor safe?" 

Neither of them could argue that. And they hadn't. With bowed, defeated heads, they had remained silent. 

"You seem to know what is best," Dumbledore had murmured. 

Severus would never let Hermione know who she was. As long as she lived she would be Hermione Granger, the daughter of a conventional, loving and kind couple. She would live in ignorance, never knowing that she would always be in the greatest peril. Severus kept the secret to keep her safe but it seemed that she liked to put herself in danger anyway. 

As soon as she had made friends with Potter, Severus knew that it would take all his energy to keep her out of trouble. Whilst it followed Potter like it had his father, it also followed Hermione, whom, it seemed, felt that feeling guilty at breaking hundreds of school rules was better than a heavy conscience should something happen to the two inept boys. As such, Snape could hardly be civil to the two boys who put his daughters life in jeopardy. After searching for the stone, having her petrified and go after Sirius, he hadn't thought it could get worse. Their fourth year seemed to be going quietly enough, though of course Potter's name had emerged from the goblet. Of course it would. 

Snape could barely conceal the contempt he felt for Potter, so much like his father. But, if he was to be sharp with him as well as the rest of his students, he felt he had to be just as sharp to Hermione. Sometimes, he was rather cold to her but he so desperately wanted to keep everything hidden that sometimes he took it a little too far. Once the bitterness was unleashed, he could not control it; bitterness towards Potter, Dumbledore, life and - he could hardly admit it to himself- Hermione, for every time he looked at her sweet face, he was reminded of the heart that had been torn from him and the wonderful life that had ended in a flash of green light. 

Minerva often commented on his treatment of the girl, that damned thin brow raised and that pale mouth pursed. "You talk to her worse then you would talk to a dog, Snape," her contempt hardly hidden. 

"What would you like me to do? Buy her presents and hold her hand when the going gets tough? Perhaps take her to the park to play on the swings?" 

Damn Minerva. She always had to be involved. She claimed to feel as much pain as he did and that was why she remarked tartly at every syllable Severus uttered but what did she know? She'd been married for years, she'd built her life. Of course, Dumbledore left her and then her daughter died but she had  _memories_. Severus couldn't think of any greater comfort than that. He had so few...so few that he had lived so many times in his head that he knew every detail of them. Except her face. With the passing of time, her face had began to smudge more and more and now...now he couldn't see it properly. 

Memories. What he wouldn't give for Minerva's memories. 

*********************************************************************

 His office hadn't changed much in nearly two decades. He had nothing to add to it. His desk, black wood and old, still sat under the slanted window, the wonky bookcase stood against the stone wall opposite, next to the heavy door. The doors were thicker in the dungeons, great, dark arched doors that took a lot of effort to open. Were the dungeons not cold all of the time, closing the door would have made the room insufferably suffocating and thick but it was always cool, chilly even, and Severus liked to keep the door shut. He didn't want to be disturbed and his brash and cold manner meant that students hardly ever knocked anyway. 

When they did, it was because they were desperate. To his discomfort, it was mainly the pale, sobbing girls that knocked sheepishly, confessing incoherently that they had made the greatest mistake of their lives and would he please write home to their mothers for they were too terrified to. Luckily, he usually passed these girls to Minerva, who immediately shred her strict, indifferent manner, and with a soft, understanding face, took the girls to her sitting room for tea. Severus concluded that everyone of these girls made Minerva think of herself and that was why she was so soft and understanding. He wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. But the problem was not over for him, for he was the one who had to march to find the offending boy - if the girl admitted this - and when Severus found him it made for an awkward discussion. 

As a result of these instances, Severus always sighed when he heard a knock. He hadn't the energy to run around after two young students who clearly had no sense, so when, one cold, November night, he heard it, he groaned inwardly. 

Across his desk were scattered the parchments of his first years most recent assignment - a sorry, half-arsed lot of essays that he was finding difficult to mark properly and not simply strike a line through them and write idiot on the bottom. It was late, the white moonlight slanting across the wall and he was just about to climb the stairs to bed. Why do problems always arise late at night when little, if anything, can be done about them? Shaking his head, he flicked his wand and the parchments immediately sorted themselves into two piles. He leaned forward and rested on his elbows as he barked his instruction to enter. 

Silently, Minerva scurried in, her dark green dressing gown wrapped tightly around her. She shut the door firmly and waited a moment before she turned to look at him. Her greying hair was plaited down her back, her pointed jaw was tightly clenched and her eyes were wide and burning emerald green. She swallowed as she sat opposite, her hands folded elegantly in her lap - did she have to sit like that? Didn't she know that Eleanor folded her identical hands like that? 

"I'm surprised to find you up at this hour," she remarked tightly. 

Severus smirked. "The devil doesn't sleep, does he?"

"So I thought," her voice was crisp. 

"Besides, what are you doing roaming the corridors at this hour, Minerva?" 

Minerva scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? I can't communicate with you telepathically, can I?" 

He bit back a retort. She made her own life difficult with tart remarks and snipes. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore left her, for he couldn't imagine her being any other way. 

"Quite," he seethed. "As you say, it's late, what did you want?" 

Her face softened. Her brows furrowed, her mouth sloped and her jaw relaxed. He hadn't been expecting it and he felt a sudden pang of guilt - she was more than the remarks, the looks and the high tones. Dumbledore would have seen that, for it was obviously painted on her pointed face. This must have been the woman that Albus had been married to. His guilt grew more profound as he realised - Albus had no doubt made the McGonagall that walked these halls. He had the feeling, well rather Eleanor had told him, that she had always been stubborn and proud when the occasion called for it but she was obviously more than what she let people see, perhaps out of fear, or pain, or, more likely, a combination of the both. 

"I can't stop..." her jawed quivered slightly. "I don't know how you stand it, having her so near yet denying you both the truth."

"What?" 

"Hermione!" She cried exasperated. "How long are you going to let this go on for? Albus has told me that I should keep my mouth shut-"

"Perhaps you should," he interjected coldly, his sympathy being replaced with annoyance. 

"I have. For four years. I stayed away when I thought that she was hurt when she and the two boys took it upon themselves to get the Stone. When she was petrified last year...all I wanted to do was sit with her so that she wasn't alone and all I could do was snatch quick visits in the dark of night. Severus, " his name, he knew, was not a word that rolled easily from her sharp tongue. "She's growing up. The war is coming, we both know that," her eyes quickly darted to his arm and back again, making him shuffle in his seat. "How long so we have? I just think-"

He held up his hands. She was such a busybody. "Minerva, I'm not going to sway on this, so I wouldn't waste your breathe. She is going to have a normal life for as long as she can," he replied sternly. 

The face tightened again and the eyebrow, which had turned grey recently, rose. "And so far it has been normal has it?" 

"Relatively so," Severus snapped with irritation. 

"She's my blood as well," Minerva said pointedly. "And Dumbledore's." 

"She's my daughter," he said lowly. "I suggest," he felt his lip curl. "That you keep out of it. Just because you are upset doesn't mean that I am going to soothe you by upsetting her!"

"Soothe me? You think that my reasons are selfish?" Her voice was raised with indignation. "Do you think you are selfless, Snape? Because I know that you are not!" 

"Are you?" 

"I don't suppose anyone is," she quipped. "But I know that I am not being selfish with this! You are so damn stubborn when really, I have more right to that girl than you do! Where were you? Did you watch him laugh afterwards? Did you watch him clap his hands with delight? Did you sit there silently, a smile to match his?" 

"Get out, Minerva," he warned. 

She laughed. "I'm not scared of the likes of you!" She thew her hands in the air. "If only you could just compromise with us. Or have a long, clear discussion about it but you are so bull headed!" 

"Oh, you know nothing, woman!" Severus shouted. His heart was pounding, his blood running hot. "If you think I am bull headed, you should speak to Dumbledore! You were married to the man and yet you don't even know him!" 

He watched as she swayed for a moment in her seat, recoiling from the truth thrown at her. As she steadied, she looked up at him with dark, venomous eyes and spat, "Did you even know Eleanor? Because I know that she would not have wanted this!" 

"Get out, get out!" Severus bellowed, frustrated. 

"Oh, I'm going," Minerva hissed. "But do not for a moment think that I am defeated, I shall see what my husband has to say!" 

"What husband?" He jeered ungallantly but she ignored him and marched from the room, making sure to leave the door swinging on its hinges. 


	37. McGonagall and Granger

The students sat on the narrow benches, the boys fidgeting, the girls giggling. The Weasley's, Potter and Longbottom sat at the back; the tall twins lounging against the wall, Ron swatting at them as if they were pestilent flies, Harry laughing at them and Neville pale with uncertainty. How that grandmother of his had ruined him! 

Minerva marched between the two long rows of students, the hush almost instant, her heels clicking on the stone floor. She turned swiftly at the end, her eyes piercing. Silently, she levitated the twins wands as they made their way towards Ron and the boys looked aghast for a moment before shrugging innocently her. She tilted her head slightly at them, brows raised and lips pursed before they looked at the floor. As the wands made their way to her, she coughed and a hundred heads turned to look at her. 

"I hope that you have been practicing," she said clearly. "For I'll be damned if Snape and his house put on a better show than us. I trust everybody has partners," as she eyed the lines, faces turned red and shy smiles twisted on them. She wasn't sure whether they were red because they hadn't yet found a partner or because they had and they were secretly either delighted or horrified at who they had ended up with. "Please would those who have not yet found partners raise their hands?" 

A few hands went up, accompanied with scarlet faces. A few girls, but not Hermione, she noticed, and a handful of boys including Ron and Harry. She was surprised. She had thought that one of them would have asked Hermione. "If I were you Potter, I'd find one and be quick about! Haven't I told you that you and the other three will lead the dance?" 

Harry lowered his head. "Yes,Professor." 

She carried on searching the lines and nearly fell over that Neville hadn't raised his hand. So painfully shy was he, that she hadn't expected him to ever find the courage to ask anyone. She thought of Ellen, so much like Neville and remembered how brave that girl had been - Neville was just another Ellen and he could, it seemed, find the courage that the hat had seen within him. 

"This hall will be empty from tomorrow afternoon, between lunch and dinner," she continued. "I expect to find you all in here, learning this dance until it comes as second nature to you. You are dismissed." 

She waited as the students clattered out slowly. She gave the twins their wands back with a sharp look and as Hermione came into her eyeliner, she couldn't fight her curiosity. "Miss Granger," she called clearly. "Could I speak to you for a moment?" 

Hermione glided towards her, her face tinged with worry. "Professor, have I done something wrong?" 

"No," Minerva said, feeling a little foolish now. "I noticed that Mr Potter and Mr Weasley have not found a partner but you have. Forgive me, but I assumed that you will be partnering with one of them." 

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Sometime I think that boys cannot see their hands in front of their faces. No, I am not going with Ron nor Harry."

"I see," Minerva nodded. 

"Professor," Hermione said slowly, her face turning a little pink. "I...Oh, I know that you are busy and I suppose my worries are the last thing that you want to hear but I need help and I don't know who else I should ask. I don't really have any friends that are girls and I can't ask Harry of Ron..." she shook her head. "I need help with what to wear and my hair. I want to look nice." 

Minerva smiled. Pomfrey was the one to ask about fashion and hair do's, Minerva had been asking for Poppy's direction for most of her life. Minerva had about as much idea as her brother-in-law about dresses and shoes but she didn't want to pass up a chance to help Hermione. Minerva rationalised any doubts that she had about spending time with her in this by telling herself that she was the girls head of house and thus had a duty of care. "I'll help you, Granger," she said quietly. "Come to my sitting room this evening. I suppose you know where that is," Minerva arched a brow. 

Hermione blushed. "Fred and George-"

"No need to say more," Minerva said. "Now, you should go, you don't want to be late for Professor Snape." 

"No I do not," Hermione shook her head and turned on her heels. 

Alone, Minerva moved all the benches that lined the hall, flicking her wand without any thought to her task. For the first time in a long time, she felt the small bubble of excitement knot in her stomach. She suddenly noticed the passing of time, watching the hands on the old Muggle clock in the corner tick away, painfully slow. Usually, day moulded into night and then into day again. She gave no thought to time, or how fast an hour passed. Life rolled on, she was painfully aware of that, and usually it seemed to pass without her, as if it had forgotten that she existed. She lived in neither the past nor the present, for both were unbearably painful but instead she found herself in the void in between them both, without any glance at the future either. When one didn't care about their lives then one hardly bothered to look into the future for anything. 

"Do you think they will be ready for the dance?" 

Minerva gasped and dropped her wand. A bench in the far corner tumbled to the ground with a great crash. "Damn it, Albus," she cried. "What are you sneaking up on me for?" 

Albus hid a smile, afraid to ignite Minerva's wroth. "I did no such thing," he lifted his wand with the purpose to piece together the shattered bench but Minerva raised her hand. 

"I am perfectly capable," she said thinly and within a moment, the bench was mended and piled neatly with the others. "I passed all of my exams, thank you." 

"I know, I was there." 

Minerva rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Headmaster?" 

"I was passing and saw the solemn faces of the males of your house as they filed out and was wondering if you think they will be ready." 

Minerva sighed, closing her eyes. "I doubt half of them will be but of course, I can always be surprised as proven today. Longbottom has a partner." 

Albus's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Well, I was not expecting that." 

"Nor was I," Minerva smiled, trying to curb a laugh. "Especially since Potter doesn't." 

"But he-" 

"I know, I know," Minerva declared. "I've told him." 

"Why doesn't he ask Miss Granger?" 

"She's already taken." 

"Oh," Albus looked thoughtful. 

"Are you uncomfortable with the idea?" 

Albus chuckled. "I'm sure her choice of beau is more suitable than our daughter's choice. Mr Weasley?" 

"No, I don't know who he is." 

"Well it's not likely to be Malfoy is it?" 

They both laughed. When they stopped, Minerva found herself looking at him for too long. Her ponder over time had annoyingly dragged her into the past for a moment and she could remember a time when they laughed together often. She could remember the fights but there was always so much more laughter, the smiles and merry eyes. She could remember the aching of her stomach when she laughed hard and could not catch her breathe, or the tears that pulled down her face when she just couldn't stop. Those tears had always been a delight, never bitter. She had never met such a funny man and she hardly laughed without him. 

And then she realised that she was still looking at him. She felt her cheeks turn pink and she turned away. "I have a lesson to teach," she brushed past him. 

He grabbed her arm gently. "You are allowed to smile, my dear," he said softly. 

Minerva shook her head. "Don't, Headmaster," she hissed. "And I am not your 'dear.'" 

"Aren't you?"

Minerva narrowed her eyes. "No. You decided that," she said and wrenched her arm away. "I must go." 

He sighed as she marched away. Her hands were clenched tightly, her nails digging painfully into her palms. She was angry. Whenever she found herself resolved with her situation. he seemed to find a way to shake her foundations. He didn't want her, he had gotten rid of her so what gave him the right to do that? To say things that he knew would make her yearn for him? Age had helped her gain control her feelings but sometimes it was just to hard. It angered Minerva that Albus did nothing to help her. Was he so insensitive that he couldn't see how much pain it caused her when he gave her a glimpse of the Albus that he had been? Why couldn't he remain indifferent, why did he have to have moments of sentiment and tenderness? If he were always cold towards her, Minerva would be able to grow resilient and thick skinned. But each time he let the coldness thaw, she felt her wall crack a little and it took so much time to build it back to what it was. 

She taught her lesson throughly, throwing herself into the first year lesson but time did not pass any quicker. By the time the lesson ended, Minerva felt her come back to herself. The moment with Albus had shaken her but an hour later, she felt back in control. She sighed with relief. She was going to be tested enough later, with Hermione, and she didn't need to unsure of herself before it started. She thought of when she was a student, before she had become involved with Albus, she had been so sure of herself. She had read in novels that love made a person stronger but they were all wrong. It made a person weak and brittle, so easily snapped within a moment. She could see why people chose not to fall in love - it would make a life so much easier, she knew, but she couldn't regret her choices. Whilst she might regret the pain that Albus brought her, she could never regret Eleanor, whom she still loved and thought about at every moment. She would never grow resilient when it came to Eleanor, she had no wish to. 

The day ended and Minerva skipped dinner, partly because she wanted to avoid Albus and partly because she was so nervous she couldn't eat a bite. She carefully laid out tea in the sitting room, making sure she filled up the sugar pot. Hermione, like Eleanor and Albus before her, had the greatest of sweet-tooth's. Though Minerva hardly approved, she meant to spoil Hermione as much she could. When Minerva had been a child, her grandmother, her father's mother, had always spoiled her. She had let Minerva do everything that her mother wouldn't - jump on her bed, eat handfuls of sweets and make mud pies in the drizzle. Her own grandmother had taught Minerva that a grandmother should be kind, thoughtful and little playful. Minerva wondered if she could be playful and if Hermione was a little too old for all of that now. 

When Hermione knocked on the door, Minerva jumped a little. Her mouth went dry and she felt herself smooth her hair back as she went to the front door. With a shaky smile on her face she opened it and found Hermione smiling as nervously as Minerva. Over her arm, she had a number of dressed and floating behind her were several pairs of shoes. In her free hand she carried a small bag. "Are you sure-" 

"Come in, Miss Granger," Minerva stepped aside. "Tea is laid out on the table. If you go through the door opposite, you can hang your dresses over the back of my dressing table." 

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione mumbled and she scrambled away quickly. 

As Minerva began to pour the tea, she gasped. She hadn't moved the pictures off of her dressing table! She'd moved Eleanor's picture from the mantle piece but in her bedroom sat Minerva's wedding photo, Eleanor's wedding photo and the christening photo. It would raise enough questions Hermione seeing Minerva and Dumbledore but once she saw Eleanor, she might recognise herself. Sometimes, it was breathtaking how much Hermione resembled her mother. 

Minerva swiftly entered her bedroom but she was too late. Hermione was gazing at the photo's, her mouth open, her brow furrowed. 

"Miss Granger-" 

"Professor," Hermione said quietly. "Is that Snape?" 

Minerva nodded. 

"Is he yours and Dumbledore's son?" 

Minerva had to laugh. "Good God no! Severus Snape married my daughter." 

Hermione nodded. "She's very beautiful." 

"Oh, she was," Minerva said sadly. "Mothers are always biased, of course, but my daughter was extremely beautiful, inside and out." 

"Was?" Hermione still didn't look at Minerva but continued to survey the three pictures. 

"She died," Minerva whispered. 

"I'm sorry, Professor," the girl said. Her voice was still dream like, her eyes wide and inquisitive. "And is that Snape's baby?" 

"Yes. Snape and Eleanor had a daughter themselves," Minerva answered carefully. 

"Eleanor... what a wonderful name," Hermione said thoughtfully. She turned on Minerva, her skin pale. "Forgive me for intruding Professor but, I feel like, I've seen this woman before."

Minerva said nothing. She knew that she would give herself away. She felt a lump in her throat and tears stinging her eyes. She had never seen Hermione near Eleanor and she could see the two faces in front of her and she had never felt so deep a longing. She wished that Eleanor could have seen how beautiful her daughter had become, how kind and clever she was. This was the closest that the two had been in years and yet Eleanor was just a mirror image, waving in the photo, smiling and laughing.

"Was...Eleanor... Professor Dumbledore's daughter as well?"

"Yes."

"She has his eyes," Hermione observed. "We always knew that you and Dumbledore were... but I never realised that Snape was involved, none of us did."

"What do you know about Albus - Professor Dumbledore and I?" Minerva asked. 

Hermione smiled. "Everybody knows that you and Dumbledore are married. It's obvious!" 

Minerva smiled sadly. "We are not married, well, we are not together. We were once but haven't been for quite some time." 

"Since your daughter died?" 

"Before that," Minerva answered. 

If any other student had dared to be so impertinent they would have felt the wroth of her sharp tongue but Hermione deserved to know about her own past, even if she didn't know that it was hers. Minerva thought of Snape and of his objections but she ignored them, Hermione was related to Minerva as well. 

"Did the baby die as well?" 

"No, she did not," Minerva replied nervously. They were getting precariously close to a situation that Minerva did not want to be in alone. Tightly, she said, "Come now, Miss Granger, the tea will be cold. We'll have a cup and then you can show me what you need help with." 

Hermione nodded. As she walked past Minerva, she looked up at her, her blue eyes wide and full of sympathy. "This might be out of turn but since I have been already I'll say it. Whatever might have happened, the Headmaster still loves you." 

Minerva sighed. "If only he did, dear, but you see, you are quite wrong." 

 

 


	38. The Waltz

Minerva wove her way between the crowd of students, barking orders for everyone to move into the Great Hall. She was keeping her eye out for Mr Potter and Hermione, both of whom she needed to speak to before they went it. The din of their excited chatter echoed throughout the halls. She still couldn't understand why anything out of the ordinary in the school routine had such an impact on the students. It was like liquor going to their heads. 

As she hastened down the stairs to the Great Hall, she saw the red hair of Mr Weasley and the dark hair of Potter amongst a jittering crowd. She quickened her pace to catch up with them and was going to call out when she got behind them but she became interested in what Weasley seemed to be whining about. 

"Really, she says she's coming with someone," he complained. "But I bet she just wanted to punish me. She says that she has a partner but really she just wanted me make me look bad by letting people think that she has somebody to go with and I don't. She's probably up in her room now, or in the Library, being all Hermione and swotting over some book!" 

Minerva felt a sharp pang of empathy. When she had been at school people had always thought that all she was was a book reader. They didn't bother to delve into what else she was, for while Minerva might not have a high regard of herself, she at least knew she was more than a book. Hermione might be wrapped up in her books but she still managed to find time to break a dozen rules at least, ever year. It was as if she were completely half Minerva and half Eleanor - studious and mischievous. In her three and a half years at Hogwarts, Hermione had managed to nearly get herself killed by a chess set and three headed dog, been petrified whilst looking for a great, muggle-born hating snake and had nearly killed her own father in the shrieking shack because of an escaped convict, believe to be the reason behind the murder of the Potters. 

And yet, whilst she was doing these things and filling Minerva full of terror, Hermione was not only rule breaking. She was also showing how magnificent she was, how loyal she could be to her friends and how dedicated she was to transforming her ability into talent and power. Minerva wasn't sure if Hermione needed to break the rules for this but it seemed that Hermione would always find trouble and it seemed, always find a way out. 

"She's probably crying," Ron continued, his tone half wishful. 

Any bitterness Minerva had felt towards him a moment before melted away. Weasley was being cruel not because he did not like Hermione but rather the opposite- he did indeed like her. She hid a smirk as she called out behind them, " Perhaps you should stop speculating, Mr Weasley," she barked. "You should have  asked Miss Granger yourself if you are as put out as you seem." 

She felt delightful as his ears and cheeks turned bright pink. "Professor, I - I mean I don't-" 

Minerva cocked a brow. "Stop dithering, Weasley and spit it out. Or, if you will keep your thoughts to yourself from now on, you may keep your mouth shut." 

"Thank you, Professor," he mumbled. "I will. I - Bloody hell!" 

His blue eyes grew wide and Potter's matched his. A crisp scold on her lips, Minerva turned to see what the boys were looking at and immediately grinned. 

Hermione stood at the top of the staircase, her eyes down in embarrassment but just why, Minerva did not know. She looked wonderful, as Minerva knew she would after helping her choose. As Hermione began the walk down, all Minerva could see was Eleanor. Hermione might have been Snape's daughter but she was possessed of all the beauty and grace of her mother. Her pale dress glided behind her as she swooped quickly down the stairs, her mousey hair shining at the back of her head. Her cheeks were pink and her mouth turned into a nervous smile but her eyes, wide and bright, danced. 

"Hermione, you look-" Ron began.

"That is quite enough," Minerva said as tartly as she could. "You should make your way into the hall, Mr Weasley. Potter, Granger, you wait here." 

She followed Weasley into the Great Hall, which was already filled with excitement. The students had changed the air, it was light and thrilling and Minerva couldn't help but smile. She could remember her ball and she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. Ellen had met Eli at the ball, dressed in a pale purple gown trimmed with delicate flowers. Poppy had been the heart and soul of the ball, her dance card filled with names within moments of her making her entrance in her bright red, frilled dress and her matching hair coiled. Minerva could remember the way her heart had stopped when she had seen the way Albus looked at her with admiration and happiness as she entered on Poppy's arm dressed in a dark navy satin gown with full skirt. They hadn't long been together and she could recall with affection how torturous it had been not to be able to dance every dance with him. But when the waltz began to play softly, he hadn't been able to refuse and all but pushed away the boy who was pressing her to dance it with him and glided her across the floor himself. 

Now, it was quite a different affair. She wasn't filled with the delight of a love whose path was unknown and she certainly didn't look the same either. She wore emerald green tonight, with a square neck and long sleeves. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd worn the same navy dress of her youth - she had aged and now no longer possessed the peachy bloom of her skin, or the smoothness of it. She could hardly remember not having lines by her eyes or in her cheeks when she smiled. Time had certainly caught up with her, unmercifully, and being at the ball seemed to bring that realisation to her. 

As she made her way to the Professor's table, she nodded at Snape, who, though straight and sombre faced as usual, looked a little expectantly at the door. She wondered if he might be worrying who Hermione had chosen as her partner. She half smiled, at least Snape would never get the shock that he gave Dumbledore when he had crashed into his office and their whole world had unravelled. 

"What are you smiling at?" Poppy asked. 

"Just Snape," Minerva replied. "He's waiting to see who Hermione's beau is."

Poppy laughed. "Well all the Professor's are here, so the tradition hasn't continued." 

Minerva arched her thin brows but smiled. "It's changed so much from our day, hasn't it?"

"As if I didn't already feel a hundred years old," Poppy remarked. 

"No such thing as chaperones, or dance cards," Minerva said. "Though it's good to see round neck dresses and not the awfully low cuts that were fashionable then."

"I rather liked them," Poppy said lightly, mirth in her wide eyes. "And so did the gentlemen who danced with me." 

"So many," Minerva muttered. 

Poppy hit her lightly on the arm. "I heard that!" 

"Good," Minerva replied tartly. "I said it quietly only for the benefit of the students." 

Poppy laughed heartily. "Could you imagine their faces if you told them about Madam Pomfrey's school days! They'd all go white as sheets!" 

"You must stop making me laugh," Minerva said. "I can't let the students know that I can smile!" 

"They know that you can, just that you choose not to," Poppy retorted lightly. "The waltz with start soon, I would partner you but I've promised I'd patrol the halls for an hour." 

"I am well past dancing," Minerva said tightly. "I'll patrol with you if you like?" 

"No thank you, I think you are needed here," Poppy passed Minerva her glass and hurried away, skirting around the edges of the room. 

Minerva had only half-heartedly offered to accompany Poppy. She really wanted to see Snape's reaction when Hermione walked in the on the arm of Krum. She hoped that his jaw dropped to the floor. 

She didn't have to wait long. An announcement was made and the room erupted into cheers. Hermione came in, her smile wide and bright. She was followed by gasps from her classmates and Mr Weasley could barely open his eyes any wider. Minerva immediately turned to Snape, who looked on with furrowed brows and a straight mouth. It had been too much to hope for an open jaw but it was enough that he looked quizzical, he who always seemed to be so sure of himself. He quickly shot Minerva a look and she replied with a slight shrug of her narrow shoulders. She felt a glow of pride in her and she was pleased to see it emulated in Snape's dark eyes. 

Once the cheering stopped, the soft music of the waltz began. The students, all with pink faces and shuffling feet, made their way to the floor; the girls laughing nervously and the boys muttering and mumbling. It was strange, when Minerva had been young a waltz was customary, everyone knew how to dance it, everyone expected it. A wedding, birthday or Christmas without a waltz had been unheard of. The beauty of it wasn't appreciated anymore and that saddened her a little. It only proved that so much happened in a lifetime, how much things change and how everyone becomes part of the older generations that is left behind. She remembered how she, Poppy and Ellen used to laugh about Priscilla being old fashioned - now Minerva and Poppy were the ones that were old fashioned. She only wished that Ellen had been given the chance to be. 

"Why so melancholy?" 

Minerva started a little and turned swiftly. "Headmaster, I would appreciate it if you would not creep up on me." 

"I didn't think I was," he said quietly. "How about it?" He inclined his head towards the floor. 

Minerva pursed her mouth. "Really, Albus? Don't you think it's best left to the the younger generation?" 

"I'm afraid that I'm required to join in," he replied. "And my deputy headmistress should join me." He held out his hand. 

Minerva sighed and without looking at him, took it and allowed him to lead her. 

As they started to dance, Minerva had to hide a smile. She had quite forgotten how much she enjoyed dancing, it made her feel quite young. The only difference was the illusion was gone. When she had been young, she had always found that every trouble could be danced away, that everything around her and her partner misted and there way nothing else on the Earth except them and the music. Now, she knew how naive she had been and felt a little saddened that she couldn't be so now. 

Of course, it felt wonderful to be in his arms, to have her hand in his and for him to lead her swooping across the floor. Of course the music was lovely and enchanting and she finally had an excuse to look at him, into those eyes that were so soft and kind. But, even being this close to him didn't wipe away life. She was still acutely aware of she was, who was missing and what had happened to her. Her age denied her the luxury of ignoring her hurt, her pain and her love. She could still feel her heart pounding with love and longing, she could feel the pain in her chest as it tried to grapple with the weight of her memories. 

She tried her hardest not to keep looking at him. She glanced past his shoulder, over the side of the room but she felt a drive to keep looking at him. She hadn't been this close to him in so many years and she felt the overpowering need to take in every inch of his face, to memorise every different hue of blue in his eyes. She found that she had forgotten that his merry, lovely eyes were made up of bright blue, faded pale blue and shining azure. She must have noticed it before but she had taken it for granted, expecting to always look at them and having no need to imprint them in her memory. 

"You still dance wonderfully, Minerva," Albus smiled. 

"You say that as if you are surprised," Minerva quipped. 

"I didn't mean that at all...I-"

Minerva laughed. "You needn't apologise, I was teasing," she sighed. "Do you remember the ball for my year?"

"I do indeed," he said. "I remember watching all the boys asking you to dance. I remember our waltz." 

"It was hardly ours," Minerva said drily. "I remember feeling so content. These students will never know contentment again, once they become adults. I thought that I would never lose, that my battle against the world was finished and I had won so magnificently. And then-" 

"The real world is quite different, isn't it?" He said distantly. "When I danced with you that night, I knew that it was going to be difficult to tell everyone about us, when you left Hogwarts but I never thought for a moment that it would end as it did."

Minerva closed her eyes. "I knew, you know. Whilst we were dancing, I knew about the baby. I was going to tell you but it was such a wonderful moment for me and I was frightened about what you might say." 

His face darkened with shame. 

Without thinking, she moved her hand from his shoulder and touched his face lightly. "Don't think about that," she said softly. "It's all done now. We can't look back, once you do, all you can do is look back." 

He nodded and after one last swell, the music stopped. He bowed slightly as they parted, his face grim. He had turned and marched away before Minerva could bob lightly. She watched him go in great haste and cursed herself. 

She always ruined every chance that she had to speak to him. She always annoyed him with her obvious affection. She was meant to be a grown woman and yet when she was near him, she was as helpless as a child. He didn't need reminding that a lovesick child missed him when he felt nothing for her. She shook her head, her eyes screwed shut to hide the pain. 

When she opened them, Hermione was there, her round face full of sympathy. "Professor," she said, so quietly that Minerva could hardly here her. "I know it isn't any of my business but I think that you should go after him." 

Minerva smiled sadly and patted her girls arm. "Thank you for your concern, Miss Granger but I won't be following him. I'm quite finished." 


	39. The Family

In two days, the school year would be finished and Minerva could hide herself away in the cottage again. 

She would be glad of the solitude, she reflected, as she sat behind her desk finishing her end of year report. It was warm in her office, despite the cooling charm that was caste over the room, and the sun seemed to linger longer in the sky this evening. The warmth made her slightly drowsy but she knew she wouldn't sleep. She hadn't slept in weeks, not since that poor boy...

She couldn't get his face out of her mind. Such a warm, bright face came out of the maze cold, grey and unhuman. She saw his eyes every time she closed hers; wide, empty and haunting. She couldn't stop wondering if Eleanor had looked so cold, so dead, she supposed, though of course it was ridiculous because that's what she had been. Just as Diggory had been. 

That poor boy's father had been distraught, so broken and Minerva felt a pang of guilt at not having been able to do anything for him. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't had time to think about helping the man but on reflection she felt as if she should have done something. For didn't she know the pain of losing one's child in such horrific circumstances? But then again, what could she say to him that would bring him any comfort? She couldn't lie to him and say that life carried on because she knew in her heart that it didn't. She couldn't offer him empty words for no word could take away such pain. Whatever she had done it wouldn't have brought the boy back and really, that's all Diggory wanted, was to have his son back. 

When Eleanor had died people offered her sincere and heartfelt words. Minerva had hardly been able to take them graciously, she couldn't help but feel that they were wasted words, wasted looks because no matter what, none of it was going to bring Eleanor back and that was the one thing that would have helped her. Minerva knew better than anyone that the finality of it was the most uncomprehensible thought- Diggory would have none that himself, he didn't need her to point that out to him. 

People often said that to grieve with those like you would make the process easier. Minerva thought those people fools that obviously had never suffered the loss of a child. Not even the child's other parent could help or make any of it easier, when the child died each parent was isolated, devoured by their own grief, guilt, anger and suffering. 

And the injustice just made the whole thing worse. Eleanor and Cedric were murdered, their lives taken on the whim of another. Eleanor had been hunted because of her blood, Cedric had just been an inconvenience. Minerva had to admit that though it brought no solace, at least it was accepted that Riddle had killed her. The damn, stupid ministry was denying the return of the madman and so did not accept that Cedric had been killed by him. One of his followers, maybe, but not by Riddle himself- it was outrageous! Were they just going to bury their heads until it came do their doors? How many more people, more _children,_ were going to have to die before they accepted that Riddle was back? Hadn't Albus said that he would be, numerous times, since the night at Godric's Hollow when the Potter's had been killed? They would soon rely on Albus to save the world once they finally had no choice to accept that Riddle had returned. They would run to Albus like frightened school children and cling to his robes until the matter was done with. 

For his part, Albus had been very subdued about the affair. Minerva wondered if it brought back the same painful memories for him as it had for her. He hadn't been at many meals and she never found him strolling through the corridors during lesson hours. She worried about him, she knew that if he was preoccupied he wouldn't take the time to eat properly or sleep and she didn't know how long that could go on for before he burned out. A part of her wished that he would tell her what he was thinking, perhaps it would help them both but even as she thought it, the other part of her screamed at her to stop being so childish- what could he do to help her? How would the weight of his grief ease hers? 

She threw her quill down onto the desk with a heavy sigh, frustrated. frustrated at her stupidity, at the way that the world worked. Would anyone ever be able to change it? 

When a light, nervous tap brought her out of her thoughts, she barked harshly:"Come in!" 

Hermione sheepishly bent her head around the slight ajar door. "Are you busy, Professor?" 

Minerva closed her eyes for a moment. If any of the Weasley's were up to no good again she would be sure to hex them, she really wasn't in the mood. "What is it, Miss Granger? Don't dither about by the door, come in and close it." 

"I know this is bad timing," Hermione began quietly as she made her way across the room to Minerva's desk. "But, I've been thinking a lot recently, a lot of things just didn't make any sense. I wasn't going to say anything but since Cedric...well, that has changed everything, I think." 

"How so?" Her voice was quipped but she couldn't feign patience, even for Hermione. 

"When you helped me for the ball... Those photos. You told me a lot about the life that you had, about everyone in it. Perhaps not a lot but more than I thought you would ever reveal to a student. I would gather that you are a private person and I was shocked when you told me, when you answered my questions rather than scolded me for my impertinance." 

Minerva raised her thin brows. "Miss Granger, I believe that you are skirting around your point," she said tightly. "It would save a lot of time if you just came to this point that you are trying to make." 

"I think," Hermione whispered. "I think that you've known me for longer than these four years. I think that you've known me my whole life." 

Mineva smiled, an involuntary movement fed by her pride. She really was a Dumbledore. She clearly suffered no fools and was as intuatitive as her mother. "Miss Granger, you should not be asking me," Minerva replied. "I can give you no answers for they are not mine to give. If you would come with me, I'll show you to whom you might receive what you want." 

She didn't talk to the girl as they made their way to the dungeons. She wasn't sure what should be said, if anything at all. There was no point striking up a trivial conversation when it mattered to neither of them and she wasn't about to tell Hermione what she wanted to know. She would have, except, she knew that rightfully, it was Snape's conversation to have. She might not have agreed with his methods in the past, and she hardly agreed with them now, but he was the parent, it was his decision what should be done. No doubt he would blame Minerva anyway, he wouldn't give the girl the credit of having worked it out for herself. Of course it was because of Minerva that Hermione had seen the pictures but that had been an mistake on Minerva's part, a foolish mistake, but an honest one. Not that she was about to admit that to Snape. 

The dungeons were cold and eerily quiet. Usually a rogue Slytherin could be found breaking curfew but it seemed that even they had lost their lust for rule breaking since the death of Cedric. Perhaps they believed that Riddle had come back, after all, most of their parents had been Death Eaters in the last war, and they were frightened of what might be expected of them now, with a new war looming. Some might even be considering their options with glee. It seemed such a shame that because these students were sorted into this house it meant that they would be obligated to become one of his followers. It would be so hard to break away from the trend, should any of them decide to. She had mostly dislike for most of the Slytherin students as they lived up to their reputation but still, they were children - they shouldn't feel pressured to follow a man who killed so many. 

When they reached Snape's office, Hermione grabbed Minerva's arm. "I thought we would be going to the Headmaster's office," she said quietly. "I don't know what-" 

"You remember what I told you?" Minerva asked. "About Snape marrying my daughter?" 

Hermione nodded. "I...I remember, I just-"

"Miss Granger, you will only get what you want from this man. If you have changed your mind, I will walk you back to the common room." 

Hermione pursed her mouth in thought. Minerva remembered that Eleanor had used to do that, especially when she was planning something that her parents wouldn't approve of. Minerva had forgotten that she did that. There was so much that she had forgotten. 

"Will you stay?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know..." Minerva grimaced. "Snape might want me out. In fact, he might want us both out and refuse to say anything on the subject-" 

"He can't refuse to tell me what I already know," Hermione remarked. 

Minerva cocked a brow. "Have you not been taught by Professor Snape for the past four years? You will know that he will refuse, if that's he seems to be fit." 

"And do you think he should refuse?" 

Minerva pursed her mouth. "Miss Granger," she said sharply. "You seem to have mistaken me for a soft touch. I can assure you that you are quite wrong." She didn't allow the girl to say anything else but knocked on the door and marched in, her back straight and tall. 

"Minerva," Snape said cooly, hardly glancing at her. "What do you want?" 

Minerva smiled tightly. "Miss Granger wishes to speak to you." She stared at him to see if his face altered but it stayed still and placid. She wondered again, what Eleanor had seen in him. He just didn't seem to have anything about him and it wasn't because he had lost Eleanor because he had been like it before. Minerva couldn't imagine him being loving or tender...but then, most people couldn't imagine that Minerva could be either. 

"And what does Miss Granger want?" He asked dryly. 

Minerva stepped aside and ushered the girl forward. She watched as Hermione composed herself, drawing her head up and squaring her jaw. 

"I want you to tell me everything," Hermione answered simply, her voice clear and determined. 

Snape leaned forward in his chair, leaning his arms on the desk and closing his hands together. "Miss Granger, I don't know what you mean by 'everything' but I can assure you that I do not have the answers that you want. I suggest," his lip snarled slightly. "That you go back to bed." 

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"No?" 

"No," she repeated. "I won't go until you tell me." 

"I do not know what you are talking about," Snape snapped impatiently. 

"Severus," Minerva cut in. "Do not take her for a fool. I did the right thing by bringing her here and she deserves to know the truth, now that she knows some of it-" 

"And how does she know?" Snape hissed. "I should have known that you wouldn't be able to keep your mouth shut. You can't help but interfere and put your nose in business that isn't yours, I-"

"It wasn't her fault!" Hermione cried. "She hasn't told me anything. I saw...she told me about her daughter. About you, about Professor Dumbledore...but she never mentioned how I was involved in all of it. I worked that out for myself." 

"Always so clever, so proud," Snape snapped sarcastically. "And just what do you think that you have worked out?" 

"You needn't talk to her like that," Minerva said lowly, her voice filled with warning. Her eyes were blazing, ready to fight him. "She doesn't deserve-" 

Snape raised his hand to silence her. "Minerva-" 

"Don't you dare," she seethed. "I will say what needs to be said and I will not allow you to silence me." 

Snape stared at her, his dark eyes livid. It didn't frighten her. Minerva continued to look at him with a steady, threatening gaze. She had never been bullied by anybody and she wasn't about to let him be the first one. Hadn't she stood before Riddle and refused to tremble, refused to beg for her life? She had showed him no fear even when she knew that he was going to take her life. 

"I want you to tell me that you are my...father," Hermione blurted. "And that my mother was..." 

Snape sighed. "And if I told you, what is the point?" 

"The point?" Hermione questioned. "Does there have to be a point?" 

"Yes there does," Snape shot back. "Everything has to have a point. The point of keeping this from you was to keep you safe, to not let anyone hurt you like they did...like they did my wife. Tell me, what is the point of telling you what you want to hear? Because it won't keep you safe, if it only bring danger to your doorstep. And not the kind of danger that you've already experienced - a chess board, a snake and a time turner - real danger. He wouldn't just kill you, you know that? He would do so much more until you begged for death. That is what danger is. That is what the point of keeping secrets is." He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, his brow furrowing a little. "All I've ever wanted was to keep you safe. I failed my wife, despite my hardest efforts. I couldn't fail you." 

Minerva couldn't see through her tears. The way that he spoke about her daughter, about her Eleanor... she had forgotten that other people had loved her as well. It hurt to hear somebody talk about her like Snape had, as if he had failed her. It brought home the fact that he had failed her, and so had Minerva and so had Albus. They had all failed Eleanor and that made it so hard to live with. They could continue to breathe and laugh and live whilst Eleanor lay cold in the ground, dead, because they had failed her. 

"You would be failing me now, if you don't tell me who I really am," Hermione answered quietly. 

Snape's cold face melted away and Minerva caught a glimpse of what Eleanor must have seen. His hard, square face softened, his jaw slacking and his eyes grew a little bigger as he stopped narrowing them. He looked...human, approachable. 

"My wife's name was Eleanor Dumbledore Snape. She was... Minerva and Albus's daughter and your mother." He said it quietly, clearly, as if he were reading aloud. He did not look up in Hermione's face but kept his eyes down, glancing at his hands. After a moment, he finally looked up and surveyed the girl's face for the first time since she'd arrived at the school. 

She had the same shape face as her mother, Minerva's square jaw and Albus's blue eyes. Her skin was as pale as his own but with Eleanor's beautiful blush. He hadn't ever looked at the girl properly and he was slightly overcome with how much she resembled Eleanor. Her face brought back memories that he had tried so desperately to lock away - he hadn't thought about Eleanor in years and he had meant to keep it that way. Sometimes, she crept into his dreams, making them nightmares where he couldn't reach her or she ran from him, her wonderful face twisted with disgust. Disgust that came from being let down - he was sure that she must be disgusted with him, he had let her die. He had let her die and hadn't taken his life to be beside her. 

"How..." Hermione stopped thoughtfully, swallowing hard. "How did she die?" 

"Voldemort killed her," Severus said, his voice loud and unsteady. "He killed Eleanor and her cousin, William." 

"But we always thought that you were a-" 

Snape laughed bitterly. "That is the problem with you three. You think you know everything but you aren't clever enough to think of other things. I could be a Death Eater, I could be Dumbledore's man. I could be both. Has it never occurred to you that a person can be two things at one?" 

"No," Hermione admitted. "It hasn't." She paused, looking over at Minerva, whose mouth quivered ever so slightly. "So you are my grandmother. I've never had a grandmother. My friends always told me that their purpose it to spoil their grandchildren, to make them feel special. I always wanted one, when I was little. But I couldn't imagine that you would be quite like that." 

Minerva scoffed. "You have no idea what I can be like," she said lightly. "You should ask the Weasley boys who their favourite Aunt was when they were younger, which one spoiled them the most!" 

Hermione's eyes grew wide and filled with hurt. "Does Ron know all about this? Has he known all along and he's never told me?" 

"No," Minerva shook her head. "I stopped being Aunt Minerva when Eleanor died. I hid myself away for years and I never saw the children again until they came here. I never met Ronald when he was a baby, I was much too frightening to be around the children. I still saw Molly but I always told her to come on her own." 

Hermione nodded, her face flooding with relief. "So I am a Snape and a Dumbledore," she spoke out loud. "I never thought that such a combination would exist." 

"Severus," Minerva said quietly. "I think that Albus will want to know about this." 

Snape nodded. "I suppose but I won't be going with you when you tell him," he declared. 

"Why?" Minerva cried, dread filling her blood. He couldn't really expect Minerva to go on her own, could he? 

"Because you should do it." 

Minerva closed her eyes. Was this his way at getting back at her? He searched his face for a hint of humour but she could only see sincerity. She didn't want to go to Albus's office and tell him that their granddaughter was finally his. It would bring back such painful memories for them both. She would see the twisting of his face as he remembered their daughter. Worst of all, she wasn't sure if she could keep her feelings at bay. With tensions high anyway, she was terrified that something might slip and her walls, high but fragile, would tumble much to his discomfort. 

"Scared?" Snape sneered, a grim smile stretched across his face. 

"No," Minerva snapped unconvincingly. 

"Why would she be?" Hermione questioned, turning to them each in turn. 

Snape laughed. "Oh, Minerva, why don't you tell her what a happy family she is a part of?" 

Minerva closed her eyes sadly. He was right. At home, Hermione had a wonderful mother and father, who loved each other as they loved her. That was all she had ever known and it was more than she would know now that she knew who her real family was. The girl's mother was dead, her father was cold and distanced from the world and her grandparents, her grandmother especially, were a mess. It was hardly even a family, it was just three people with whom Hermione shared her blood. Minerva had learned a long time ago that blood did not a family make. Look at Ellen and Poppy, they were her sisters, completely and without question. Look at Albus and Aberforth, they shared the same blood and yet they hardly regarded each other as even strangers. 

She felt a pang of guilt. She had waited so long to have Hermione back, to have her daughters child back in her life but now she knew that she had been selfish. Minerva had never seen such a stark truth before her - they really weren't a family and every child deserved a family. She had been in a family at one time, a huge, bright family filled with Aunts and Uncles, cousins and siblings. Now, everything was disjointed. Children were dead whilst their parents remained, nieces and nephews forgotten because it was too painful to bear. Hermione would have none of the love that had once filled Minerva's life. She would have been better off never knowing that her real relatives had made such a mess of their lives. 

"Severus..." Minerva began, her voice shaking slightly but Hermione scoffed, her face twisted with anger. 

"How can you laugh at her?" She questioned her new found father. "Do you not know pain when you see it? I knew that you were distant, cold towards us all as students but I never thought that you could be so unfeeling. I thought that you might be kind, even show me that you do care. Do you care for me, Professor? Do you love me?" 

"Everyone I've ever loved is dead," he replied sharply. "So forgive me if I struggle with the concept now." 


	40. Hermione

Minerva woke with a shooting pain in her head and an aching body. The sun was barely rising above the lake, the sky still an inky blue. She yawned as she pulled on her dressing gown, tying it tightly around her waist, and made her way to the kitchen. She boiled a kettle, poured herself some tea and with a book under her arm, made her way to the sitting room. It was her normal routine. Everyday began with a cup of tea sipped from her mother's dainty china cup and Minerva had never been one to deviate from routine. 

She hadn't slept particularly well. It had been broken up by thoughts of the night before - of Snape being so vicious, of Albus being so evasive. He hadn't been even a little delighted when Minerva had shown Hermione to his office. He'd be pensive and quiet, merely nodding when she spoke and offering her a half smile. It hadn't been anything like the Albus she had known in the past and it had annoyed her - didn't Hermione deserve better? Disappointed was the word that she was looking for, she had been disappointed in Albus, something that didn't really occur very often. He hadn't really bothered with her and had Minerva not been so overwhelmed she would had a good fight with him about it. 

It was the last day of term and within hours the corridors would be bustling as students and their trunks made their way to the train. Within hours Hermione would be leaving, on her way home to her parents and Minerva would pack her things and go to shut herself up in her mother's cottage for the summer. Whilst the thought of spending two months alone had never been overly appealing, the thought of it this summer was utterly soul destroying. She had found her granddaughter, or rather her granddaughter had found her and still, nothing had changed and she would spend eight long weeks alone and shut away from the world. She wondered if Albus would spend another summer at Poppy's, whether he would think about the girl at all. 

She sighed. She didn't know why she wasted her time, she would never understand his mind again, even if she had barely understood it to begin with, and with a last mouthful of tea, she made the move to go and dress for breakfast. She stopped as someone tapped on her door and her eyes looking to the ceiling in some sort of half-prayer, she hoped that it wasn't Hermione. She wasn't in the frame of mind to see her, to answer questions which of course she had the right to ask. Minerva hadn't had enough time to clear her head, to get her mind ready for another day and though she should of liked to see Hermione before she left for the summer, she hoped that it might wait until after breakfast. 

She hurried to the door, smoothing her back as she did. Even though old age was fast approaching she still kept herself tidy and she wasn't about to receive visitors, especially students, looking untidy. With a sigh she opened the door and her brows furrowed in concern as Albus smiled sadly at her, his eyes weary. He looked completely dishevelled in his grey robes and she concluded that he hadn't gone to bed at all. His broad shoulders were stooped defeatedly, his hands hung limply at his side. He looked so... defeated, in such a pitiful way as she had ever seen. She smiled at him as brightly as she could, in a weak attempt to lift his spirits but after a quick search of her face, he said quietly, "You haven't slept either." 

She shook her head. "Sleep has never come easily to me," she said and stepped aside so that he could pass. When he didn't move she said as plainly as she could, "Are you coming in or would you rather the whole school hear what you have to say?" 

He nodded dumbly and made his way through to the sitting room. He hadn't been in the neat, square room for decades and he found that, despite Minerva's leaving for a while, it was very much the same. Minerva was certainly a creature of habit and the soft, well worn, neat sofas were still arranged around the fire, a low coffee table, laid out for tea, sitting between them. By the window, between the thick, dark green damask drapes, sat his armchair. Red with pale tassels and a high back, the cushions were untouched and unworn, Albus realised that Minerva probably never sat in it. As he looked at his past, Minerva moved elegantly around him, heating the pot of tea as she fluffed up the cushions in her usual prime spot. She gently ushered him to take a seat, brining the fire to a roaring life as she did. Dawn hadn't quite arrived yet and in the dim, grey light, everything seemed suddenly warm. 

She poured the tea without speaking, summoning the sugar pot from the kitchen that came levitating over his head and into her hand obediently. Her dark hair, now lighter with a slight silver, was pulled messily into a bun, her robe wrapped around her thin frame tightly, a frame that had become alarmingly thin over the years. She had always been willowy and graceful but since Eleanor's death, any extra weight that had been hidden on her bones had wasted away. As a result, the fine cheek bones become more prominent, her intense green eyes a little sunken in her face. Her jaw, still so defiant and strong, was now prominent in her face, her pale mouth almost invisible. Despite this, she was still beautiful. Albus wondered how she was possessed of such delicate features that could still be described as strong, she was the only person that he had ever come across where such a description was true. She had a timeless beauty about her, the grace in her movements only adding to it all. Few possessed such natural beauty but those who did kept it for the rest of their lives, age only illuminating it more. 

He took the cup of tea that she held out to him with a smile, holding it in his hands with little intention of drinking it. Minerva lived on tea, she had the continentally English attitude that tea was the savour in all things, Albus, however, could take it or leave it. She sipped at what he knew would be her second, if not third, cup this morning as she took a seat on the corner of the sofa opposite him, her eyes darting about the room but never looking directly at him. "I wanted to apologise-" 

"It's done," she said quickly. "Perhaps next time she visits you, you might be a little more amiable." 

He felt a little shame run through him. "I do feel terrible, Minerva. It wasn't how I imagined the situation to be but you see, it came at the worst time-" 

"Is there ever a good time?" She quipped. 

"Not really but I'd just got back from the Ministry," he sighed, sinking further back into the cushions. "I'd been with those damn idiots for hours, trying to make them see that Potter isn't insane, or corrupt for that matter! The depths of their delusions grow greater and greater! Fudge is now convinced that Potter, a fourteen year old boy, is working to take over the Ministry. Though he didn't say it, he made it quite clear that he believes that Potter will attempt to do it through me, to make me Minister!" 

"Haven't you turned it down enough times to make them realise that you do not want it?" 

"Ah, but you see, it's all a ploy, I've been planning this for years," he answered sarcastically. 

Minerva scoffed in irritation. "How can such fools govern this world? If it continues, Riddle will over throw them without much effort." 

Albus raised his brows. "I'm not convinced that he hasn't already," he said quietly. 

Minerva paled. "Surely-" 

"Minerva, the time is coming. We are not as prepared as we should be and the Order... well, we've never recouped the numbers that we had. In addition to that fact that world is being turned against me and Harry. Harry is the only chance we have to win this and the people aren't behind him, it will only make his task a harder one." 

"What task?" 

Albus shook his head. "Another time," he replied thoughtfully. "I haven't got a clear idea yet but I'll have to find one. We may have to depend on the boy but it's our task to help him as best as we can before the end." 

"The end, Albus?" She felt herself near hysterical at the thought. 

"I'm old-" 

"Hardly!" She cried and waved her hand dismissively. Albus was going to live forever. "I don't want to talk about anything like that. What did you come here for?" 

"I don't know. To redeem myself after last night. To make sure that you are fine with everything," he smiled. "Or maybe I just wanted a cup of your famous tea." 

Minerva rolled her eyes. "I've never understood how you can be so serious in one breathe and then so comical in another." 

Albus shrugged. "I've always been possessed of the talent. Now, tell me, and be brutal if need be, how disappointed in me is she?" 

"She didn't say much while I walked her back to the common room," Minerva replied honestly. "I don't know if she was bewildered, Snape wasn't overly friendly either." 

"So the dear finds her family in one night and they are cold to her," Albus commented regretfully. 

"I was not," Minerva quipped as she set down her tea cup down. "And let me tell you I think the way you acted was particularly disgusting. I expected it from Snape but not you." 

"Will you ever expect anything of any redeeming quality from Severus?" Albus asked. 

Minerva's drew in a breath sharply. Albus always skirted around the point, never explaining the reasons behind his actions but instead remaining mysterious. Minerva had always found mystery infuriating, being possessed of a mind that drank up everything and stored it away meant that she could not accept it for what is was. There was nothing exciting about it, why, when they had been young it had been the one quality hadn't drawn Minerva to him. 

She rolled her eyes. "That isn't the point here and you know it. What I am trying to say-"

"Professor?" 

Both of them froze as they heard the light tap on the door and Hermione's quiet, nervous voice. Minerva's eyes grew wide and she saw panic shadow Albus's face. How had they made such a mess of things? How had their lives suddenly slipped from their control? It was something that she asked herself everyday but now, with the poor girl waiting for her, for a friend and comforter, Minerva needed the answer like she never had before. It was as if she couldn't breathe without it, she couldn't continue with her life without the answers she needed. But who could give them to her? Who had dealt her cards and played them without her knowing they were doing it? She thought of all the great women she had read about, magical and muggle, and it seemed to her that they had always managed to gain some kind of control, always found a way to bring to heel the spiralling world around her and hold onto it for themselves, to run their own course. Why wasn't Minerva capable of that? In her youth she had thought herself strong and able to dig the path of her own choosing. Where had that gone? Or had it never been within her power, had it merely been the ignorance of youth that allowed her believe that she could do such a thing? 

"I must open the door, Albus," she muttered, though it might have been more an instruction for herself. She rushed to the door, at a pace she hadn't quite anticipated and pulling it open, she forced a heavy smile. 

Hermione stood before her, meek and unsure. Her face was tinged with the same grey that smothered Albus's and below her eyes clung the dark circles of confusion and pain. "I leave soon and I thought I might see you, before I go," she said. 

"Of course," Minerva's mouth was dry, her jaw tight and she stood aside to let the girl pass. "The headmaster is in the sitting room." 

Hermione stopped in the doorway and turned her head back to look at her. "He is?" She asked. 

"Don't worry, he's quite tame," Minerva smirked and pushed past Hermione to lead her into the lions den. 

Albus hadn't sat down but was pacing by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. His head jerked up as the two women entered and a half, shaky smile spread across his long face. The three of them stood in silence for a moment, an unknown abyss between them with only Eleanor's face on the mantle piece visible through the dark cloud. It was the face that brought that them together, the person, long gone, who was the bind between them. Each possessed a little part of her soul; Albus's mischievous manner, Minerva's determination and Hermione's ability to see a soul and not the exterior. Through them, Eleanor lived on, forever moving with them but they were broken, fragments of her soul broken up to live without one another. It was a sorry feeling, knowing that the soul that had been so beautiful now lay in bits between them. 

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked quietly, her head down. 

Albus knitted his brow. "What do you mean, my dear?" 

"Well, it can't be undone, can it? I can't un-know this, I can't just get on with my old life and pretend that nothing has changed," Hermione quipped in a tone that both Albus and Minerva recognised. "So what do we do now?" 

"Well what do you want to do?" Albus asked kindly. 

"You will soon learn that the headmaster only ever answers a question with a question," Minerva commented. "Why don't we sit down?" 

They all moved to sit and Minerva drew in a sharp breath as Hermione sat in Albus's armchair. Nobody had sat in that care in over twenty years and her initial reaction was to cry out and literally shove her off of the seat. She knew how ridiculous and irrational that was - it was just a seat. But it was Albus's seat where he had spent so many hours with her, living in a bliss that had never really been theirs. It was silly, stupid and childish, Minerva knew, but even in her sorrow, she needed a reminder that her pain was for a reason, that she had once had something real. But that reality didn't exist anymore, Hermione did though, she was perhaps the most real thing in the room and so much more important that a damn seat, so Minerva relaxed as much as she could and began to pour the tea. 

"Here you go dear," Minerva smiled, levitating the tea cup to Hermione. "Drink up and tell us what you would like us to do." 

Hermione cocked a brow. "But I'm the student," she said. 

"I don't wish to...get ahead of myself but in this you are the grandchild, you are the judge of this meeting," Albus smiled. "So please, say what you wish, Minerva will control her temper." 

"I do not-" 

"See?" Albus laughed lightly. "Don't worry, her bark is much worse than her bite." 

Hermione laughed quietly from behind the teacup she had lifted to her mouth. "I'm not sure I want to see either, if I'm honest." 

"Oh, really, this is getting out of hand!" Minerva cried. "I can do more things than lose my temper and  _if_ I lose my temper a lot, it is probably because of something that you've done, headmaster." 

"Ah that is too true," Albus said. "I promise not to invoke her wrath, Miss Granger, so you may continue as you please." 

Minerva suddenly stood. "This is where I leave you, there is a fresh pot of tea in the kitchen should you require it," she smoothed her skirts and moved for the door. 

"But, where-" 

"I know what Hermione wants, Albus, because she told me last night," Minerva explained. "I think you need to talk to her yourself." 

Albus was incredulous as she fled from the room. He hadn't expected to be alone with Hermione and he felt as if he needed Minerva there to guide him through the conversation. It seemed as if Minerva had never lost her mothering skills, perhaps they would always be ingrained on her but he hadn't been a father for fifteen years and he had quite lost the knack of it. He knew that this was probably because he had tried his best to push back any fathering instincts he might have because it brought back painful memories that he had never been strong enough to face. 

But he was being forced to face them now. The vision of Eleanor was before him and he should have known that he would never be able to escape from her because she would forever be in his life through the girl that sat opposite him, chewing nervously at her nails. The girl whose life had been turned upside down, who know looked to him for comfort and answers and a way out of the confusion. He knew that he had to man up, to stop running from his horrendous mistakes and take ownership of them, as he should have done long ago. 

"I want to apologise-" 

"Oh, please don't," Hermione said with a kind smile. "Don't worry about it, Professor, you were not unkind to me." 

"Just indifferent," he said sadly. An age old shame washed over him, a feeling he had always known too well. 

"It really doesn't matter. I just want everything to be okay. I don't want all of this to cause everyone a lot of pain, I just want...perhaps I can't have what I want. But I would like to be a part of this family, though everyone I have spoken to has said that this isn't a family. Perhaps I would like to make it one." 

"Well, if you can manage that then you are far more magical that anybody ever thought," Albus chuckled lightly. "How do you mean to go about this?" 

"To start with, I'm going to need you to admit that you still love your wife," Hermione said, in a voice that mirrored Eleanor's. 

Albus shook his head. "That is something that wouldn't change a thing."

"But it would. Did you tell your daughter that you no longer loved her mother? And more to the point, did she know that you were lying as I do?" 

He closed his eyes but couldn't hide a smile. It seemed that he would always be surrounded by perceptive women. "My dear, my wife and I are very complicated, there are reasons-"

"So you do love her?" 

"I always will," he admitted quietly. "But it has to be like this." 

"But why?" 

"It's for the best, Miss Granger. I have to do what it best, I certainly haven't done so in the past." 

"And this is enough for all of this suffering?" 

"Yes, it is." 

 


	41. The Coming of the End

An uneasy relationship formed between the granddaughter and her grandparents. Over the summer, a number of letters were passed between them; letters full of pleasantries, accounts of days and time spent, some with questions and careful answers. Once back at school, Hermione had tea in the evenings with Minerva, dinner with Albus but she never saw them together. She was sometimes glad of it as from what she had seen them being together just brought pain to their eyes but sometimes...sometimes she felt that being together would be good for them both. But it seemed that whatever Albus had admitted to her before didn't matter because nothing was going to change and he seem resolute in that decision. 

When Minerva was stunned and critically ill, Hermione had spent hours trying to find Albus or at least a message to him but he couldn't be reached. She quickly found out that Albus couldn't be found because he had been straight at Minerva's side, barking his orders so that she could come through safely. Of course, he had made sure that he slipped away before Minerva woke up and saw him. She would never know that he was there and despite Hermione so desperately wanting to tell her that he had been, she knew that she couldn't. It wasn't her place to get involved when they had been apart for so many years but sometimes the whole situation seemed such an awful waste. 

Minerva, having no idea that Albus had been at her side, had left St Mungo's an old woman. Every movement made her whole body ache, the damn stick that she had to admit to herself that she needed (though her pride prevented her from admitting it out loud) got in the way and when she'd been helped to her room the door had shut to reveal her pitiful state of loneliness. Her laboured movements meant that every task was a great chore, accomplished with great determination and teeth gritting through the pain. It only made it worse to be alone. Of course, both Poppy and Molly had offered to help but Minerva stubbornly clung onto her independence and refused them. Instead, she suffered alone, crippled and old, it made everything seem so much worse. It was an acute reminder that she had not only lost Albus but a companion as well, a companion that she missed more and more as age caught up with her. 

As Minerva began her slow recovery and her movements began to come more easily to her, Minerva finally saw a slither of light but no matter how bright it was there was always that niggling thought that she wasn't getting any younger and she would be forced to face old age alone. One afternoon, when she had struggled through a year of endless pain, it was all to much and she curled up in her seat before the dying fire and cried. She cried as hard and as bitterly as she had when Albus had left her, for she once again felt completely bereft. Her stiff, damaged body screamed in pain as it shook with her sobs but she couldn't stop; she cried as if she were heartbroken all over again, as if the pain was fresh and new. Her sobs overcome her, becoming louder and hoarser with each one as a million thoughts swam through her head. It never occurred to her that she would be disturbed, that she wouldn't hear the door open and footsteps approach her from behind. 

"Minerva?" 

Minerva shot up, crying aloud both in surprise and pain as her body protested at her sudden movements. As the pain melted away, she opened her eyes and was surprised to see Aberforth smiling sadly at her as he stood nervously in the doorway. 

"Aberforth!" She exclaimed with a smile. "What are you doing here?" She quickly wiped her eyes but she knew that was futile, he had no doubt seen the crumpled mess she had been moments before. She began to fuss around him, plumping the cushions so he could sit down and taking his coat. 

"Minerva, please, you should be resting," he said apologetically. "I can plump my own cushions, though they didn't look as if they needed it." 

"Nonsense, you're my guest," Minerva smiled. "Tea?" 

"No, thank you, though I'll make you one if you want?" 

Minerva cocked a brow. "Have you ever made tea?" 

"That's what magic is for," Aberforth grinned. 

"I suppose it is," Minerva laughed lightly. "But, no thank you, I had a cup not long ago." 

She resumed her seat, trying to cover her embarrassment but failing miserably. Nobody had ever seen her in such a vulnerable state, not even Poppy and now Aberforth had seen her at her very lowest. She knew that she must look a fright, pale and red eyed. 

"So why the tears?" Aberforth asked. 

Minerva sighed. Aberforth had never been one to ignore the obvious. His brother might skirt around the subject but Aberforth had never been capable of that. She remembered when he had told her about Albus, when he had warned her what he was like and she, in her arrogance, had believed herself rather than the man that knew him and had chosen not to speak to him. At the time, she had thought that he was being malicious and cruel but she knew that he had only been trying to save her from heartache. 

"Oh, lets not talk about that, I was being silly-" 

"You are the last person I know who could ever been described as silly," Aberforth interrupted. "If you feel the need to cry then it must be something bad." 

Minerva smiled sadly and as she looked at Aberforth's kind face, she felt the tears well up in her eyes. To her despair, she felt another wave of sorrow wash over her and she knew that she wouldn't be able to control it. She buried her face in her hands in an attempt to bury the sounds that would come out of her and let herself cry. She felt Aberforth's cautious arms wrap around her and she allowed him to pull her into him. It was quite nice to cry with someone and for once she wasn't bothered that he could see her, pathetic and crying. 

"Oh, God," she sobbed. "It's been a long year, Aberforth, a long, lonely year. I just can't understand how everything got like this- how I got so old, how I've lost everything-"

Albus patted her back gently. "You aren't old, Minerva and you'll never be alone. You've been through more than anyone-"

"Stop right there," Minerva sat herself up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've only been through the same as you. You lost your son and don't think I ever forget that. William was as dear to me as Eleanor was and I think about him often."

Aberforth nodded. "Now you are getting me going," his voice was thick and his blue eyes grew a little watery. "William was a brilliant boy and sometimes, it's hard to accept that he was taken from us so young. But I have to admit that without Poppy, I think I would have withered away and died. You not only lost your daughter that night, you lost your whole family. It's as if you died with her." 

"Didn't I?" Minerva questioned. "Sometimes I feel as if I did. Sometimes its like I am dead and I'm suffering for my sins, being forced to live a life alone and always searching for her." 

"Minerva, you aren't dead," Aberforth said quietly. "You are very much alive. You breathe air, your heart beats. Eleanor and William died but we live on and we can't waste that otherwise their deaths were even more of a waste than they are. You are so strong, in fact, both you and my wife are the most resilient people I've ever known."

She dropped her arm and squeezed his arm. She nodded and wiped her eyes dry. "Sometimes, it hard to be strong, though I do like to keep my reputation," she laughed lightly. 

"I know how important your reputation is to you," he chuckled. "But I'll wager that all of this isn't just about Eleanor. You've been a broken soul for a long time, even when Eleanor was alive." 

Minerva rolled her eyes. She didn't know when she became so easy to read. She thought that she carried her strife with dignity and an air of indifference but clearly she was wrong. She thought about the things that Hermione had said to her, how one of their first topics of conversation had been about her love for Albus. It seemed that everyone around her knew exactly what was going on in her head, perhaps even before she knew herself. Her persona wasn't real and it never had been, she wondered how long she hadn't been who she thought she was. 

"It isn't just Eleanor," Minerva admitted reluctantly. "I'm like a silly school girl, pining away for something that I can never have." 

"I have a feeling that this is about my brother," said Aberforth quietly. "And I have to say that I don't blame you for feeling like this. I may have my issues with him, I might not always see what is so brilliant about him but you clearly see something that I don't. Have you ever told him how you feel, since..."

"He left me?" Minerva shook her head. "No. What would be the point? He's made his mind up and I'm just not a part of his life anymore. I wonder if I ever really was..." she was getting into dangerous territory. She didn't want to cry again but talking about Albus would surely make her do so. Besides, she didn't want to seem any more pathetic than she already was and so she stopped that trail of thought. "But that doesn't matter. What did you come to talk to me about?" 

"Strangely enough, Albus," Aberforth replied. "He's been acting, out of sorts. I'm not sure how exactly but he... well, he came to see me this morning, said that he's been spending a lot of time with Mr Potter recently."

Minerva shrugged, her brows raised. "I don't really know what he's been up to but Hermione has told me that Potter has been going to his office a lot." 

"Well, he didn't tell me what they've been doing but he said it's important and there has been some sort of break through. He said that he'll know the answer tonight and that he's sorry for everything that happened between us... I don't know, Minerva but it felt like... like he was saying goodbye or something-"

"Oh my God," Minerva cried as her heart plummeted. "Aberforth, I have to go, I have to-" 

She didn't finish her sentence but sprang up and ran from the room, ignoring any pain she felt. She had to get to Albus. She sprinted through the corridors, shoving past students who looked on in disbelief, all the time her heart banging against her ribs. She had to get there before he left, she had to see him. 

She stormed into his office, the door clanging against the wall behind it. Fawkes snapped out of a sleep and cried out in protest. 

"Fawkes, I haven't time to apologise, where is, Albus?" 

"I'm here," Albus called from the top of the staircase. "Minerva, where is your stick? You know that you shouldn't be walking without it-" 

"You said goodbye to Aberforth," she said with hurt evident in her voice. "You said goodbye. Were you planning on saying anything to me?" 

"I've written a letter-" 

"Damn the letter!" Minerva shouted. 

"Minerva, how do you know?" 

"From what Aberforth told me. You are going away, Albus and you were saying goodbye. I know you, at least I did once, and you," her voice began to crack. "You aren't coming back are you?" 

He didn't have to answer. She knew from the way that he hung his head that she was right. She was shocked by the way her breathe suddenly caught in her ribs as her head began to spin. She had been apart from him for so many years but he had always been there; every morning at breakfast, every staff meeting, every dinner - she couldn't imagine him not being there. She couldn't imagine not seeing him everyday. Him being around her was what kept her going, they might be apart but he was still alive, still there, a part of her every day life. Tears began to sting her sore eyes and she tried to cough away the lump in her throat. "Let me come with you," she croaked, her eyes full of desperation and pleading. 

Albus was taken aback. After all the things he had done to her, after everything he had put her through, she was still willing to die for him. Would he ever stop having a hold on her, would she ever get over him? It seemed that she hadn't even tried and guilt knotted his stomach. "You can't my dear, it won't be safe-" 

"When have I ever cared about that?" They both knew that she was thinking about the duel with Grindelwald, when he led her into the snow covered forest and proposed to her as she lay dying in his arms. 

"I need you here, Minerva, for when the end comes. Hermione is going to need someone when all this is over." 

Minerva fumbled her way to a chair and crawled onto it. "I suppose," she whispered. She closed her eyes, her heart was pounding in her ears. She was going to lose him forever, so utterly and completely. It didn't seem real - Albus was a constant, an entity that the world could not function without. "But why didn't you come to find me?" 

Albus sighed, his face full of shame. "Because I am too cowardly to face you, Minerva. I have so many things that I want to say but have no right to-" 

"It doesn't matter," Minerva said quickly. "I just need you to know that...Albus, before you go I have to tell you that I love you, I haven't stopped since I was eighteen years old. You are everything and I just don't know how... I'll miss you, so much more than I could ever explain," her voice was guttural, her throat dry from all the wailing and sobbing. It hurt to force the words past the huge lump in her throat but she had to say them before he went. Before he... died. 

"Minerva, you shouldn't-" 

"What have I got to lose?" She cried shrilly. "I have to tell you, they have to be the last words I say to you. I love you, Albus Dumbledore." 

Albus couldn't speak. He knew that this was the moment to say it back, so that she might live on it while he was gone. It would be a comfort for her to know that he did indeed love her, it might help her through her grief. Then again, he might also break her heart again, telling her that she hadn't suffered from unrequited love. He hadn't expected to see her. He knew it was wrong to avoid her and sneak off like a snake in the night but he hadn't the gall to face her. He'd spent hours on the letter that he had written, the letter that he had poured his heart into and he had hoped that revealing his love through that would be enough. He should have known that it wouldn't be for she deserved to know that was loved and cherished and admired. He should have known that cowardice had no reward and he could have kicked himself into being so-

"Albus, I'm sorry," she rose. "I just needed-"

"Minerva, don't go, please," he said, terror filling him. "I have something to say as well." He made his way to her and for the first time in so long, stroked her cheek lightly. "You are the most wonderful woman I have ever known. I am and always have been, in complete and utter awe of you. You are the only person who has ever rendered me speechless and I go to my death a happy man knowing that you still love me." 

Minerva closed her eyes. This was it. He was going to step away and she would have to leave and she would never see him again. She forced her eyes open, remembering a mistake she made long ago -  _I never studied my father's face and now I can hardly remember it. I never studied Eleanor's face and now it's a haze. I'm not going to forget his_ \- and so she took in every inch of his dear face, from his knitted forehead, to his shining blue eyes; his perfectly crooked nose and lined mouth. Ignoring the fact that it was not her place, she lifted her hand and touched his bristled cheek tentatively. His skin was as smooth as she remembered it to be, toughened only by the silver hairs that grazed it. It had more lines than the last time she had touched it but it only made it better, they told a story, their story. All at once, she noticed that he hadn't flinched but rather, had moved into her touch. His eyes were closed but his mouth was trembling with sadness. 

"I'll miss you, Albus," she whispered. "You cannot know how much." 

"I don't want to leave you," he said suddenly. 

Her eyes widened and searched his face, full of confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean, Minerva, that leaving you behind is harder than the task itself."

She recoiled backwards. What was he doing? Was he being kind and allowing her to carry on with a false declaration of love? How could he be so callous? "What is the matter with you?" She hissed. "How could you tell me things that aren't true at a moment like this?" 

"But, Minerva-"

"No!" She pushed him away from her. "I've accepted how you feel about me. I just wanted you to know that I held no bad feelings for you in regards to your treatment of me. I just wanted you to know that someone loved you - why did you have to spoil it with-"

He pulled her to him with such forced that they crashed together. Before she could protest, his mouth was crushing hers, hungrily and sweetly all at the same time. He clutched at her arms, making her unable to move and she struggled for a moment before forgetting everything and allowing herself this one last memory. He didn't stop but moved from her mouth to her jaw, then the nape of her neck before she leant her head back and he kissed her throat. His hands moved from her arms and ran up her sides, pulling her closer and closer until she thought she might melt. He pushed her so that her back was against the wall and with a swift movement began to lift her from the ground. 

"No," she murmured. "Not like this." 

"Come with me," he held out his hand to lead her to her last moment of happiness. 

She took it without hesitation. It was warm and soft and she was reminded of the time when he had first held it out to her, the butterflies that had erupted in the pit of her stomach. Her feelings hadn't changed and she allowed the little wings to flutter as they wanted, for the first time in years she didn't bother to repress them. 

She followed him then as she had before, without question. 

Afterward, when he got up to leave, he left a letter on the bedside cabinet before he whispered, "I love you," and she took it and held his words to be true, if only for her own sanity.

When he left, she sat up all night in her sitting room, in the dark and the cold, until Poppy came to tell her that Albus was dead. 

 


	42. Minerva Dumbledore

It was an old woman that Hermione greeted. Dark hair had faded to silver, pale skin had lined and creased but large green eyes still remained in the pointed face. Though the old woman was slipping away, her eyes were still bright and shining. She smiled as Hermione sat beside the bed and took a hold of her thin hand. 

"You didn't have to come," Minerva said. "I'm fine." 

Hermione closed her eyes before she answered. She felt guilty that she hadn't seen her grandmother in months - life had just seemed to take up all of her time, a few days suddenly became a few months and suddenly Hermione had realised that Minerva had been alone for so long. It wasn't a good enough excuse, after everything Minerva had done for her, Hermione shouldn't have left her alone, it was a terrible thing for her to have done. 

Since Hermione had been forced to let go of her mother and father, Minerva had strived to be enough of a family for her. As the Battle of Hogwarts raged and people fell as well as the castle, Minerva had made sure that Hermione came out unscathed, almost being hurt herself. Afterward, as Hermione helped Harry to come to terms with his new life as well as venturing into a long wanted relationship with Ron, it was Minerva who had been her support. Minerva was the wisest person Hermione had ever known and it always surprised her that Minerva could continue to give so much when so much had been taken from her. When Hermione had gotten married, it was Minerva who walked her down the aisle, though Hermione didn't know how. She could see the pain in her grandmother's face as the wedding reminded her of all of those who were missing - Eleanor, William, Dumbledore- but she still had managed to smile, to congratulate Hermione and Ron in their happiness. 

There had been a few years when Hermione had had trouble accepting Minerva. It had been when her first child was born, Rose, and Hermione, having experienced the new, core shaking feeling of a mother's love for her child, had suddenly found it difficult to understand how Minerva had never come to find her daughter's only child. It made her angry that Hermione had been ousted from her own world, ignored until chance brought Minerva to her door. She resented the fact that she had been at Hogwarts many years before Hermione had stumbled upon the truth on her own. Why hadn't Minerva told her? How could Minerva of overcome the maternal instinct and continued to lie to her? Hermione knew that she had hurt Minerva during that time, though of course, Minerva took it calmly and with understanding. When Hermione had come through that dark time, she suddenly realised that she had been punishing Minerva, rather cruelly, and that she certainly hadn't deserved it. 

"Of course I had to come," Hermione smiled, trying to control her shaking voice. "I'm just sorry that I didn't come earlier." 

"Did you bring the baby?" 

"What baby?" 

Minerva knitted her brow in frustration. "The baby, Eleanor. I haven't seen her yet. Is she with Snape?" 

Hermione patted Minerva's hand softly but said nothing. What could she say? If Minerva believed that she was looking at Eleanor then who was Hermione to tell her that it wasn't so? In her last hours, why should she not believe that the daughter who she hadn't seen for nearly forty years was with her? Hermione looked over the Minerva's dressing table, at the picture of Eleanor that stood prominently amongst the others. It was the same picture that had sat there for decades; she was smiling, she was alive. Hermione didn't want to tell Minerva that her daughter was dead, that she been dead for so many years. She was worried that the news might be fresh to Minerva, that she might break again and have to suffer the loss as she had before. 

"And I don't know why Albus hasn't come yet, I've been waiting days," Minerva's voice was full of the impatience that she was famous for. Hermione smiled - she might be a little confused but she still retained her old spirit. "Would you help me sit up? I'm sick of laying down, you know I hate it. I feel useless." 

"I'll help you, but don't feel useless," Hermione gently eased Minerva up and plumped up the pillows behind her. "If you sit back, you'll feel better." 

"I'm not an invalid," Minerva said tightly. "And I'm not a child." 

"Of course not." 

"I always thought I would die at the school," Minerva said, the vacant expression in her eyes suddenly gone. Hermione realised that Minerva, present day Minerva, was back. Her slackened face became tighter, her usual stern expression back on her face. "It would have been better that way." 

"Minerva, you can't be sure-"

She laughed and shook her head. "I know well enough, Hermione, and I'm not upset. I would have like to have died with Albus next to me." 

"You know that..." Hermione was quiet, mumbling as tried to tell her that her husband was gone. 

"Oh, I know," Minerva barked. "Really! I meant the portrait."

"Oh!" Hermione smiled. "Well, Ron is coming soon, perhaps there is some way-" 

Minerva held up her hand. "Don't worry dear. It doesn't really matter where I am, it will happen just the same." 

"Are you scared?" 

"No," Minerva replied honestly. "I'm old and I've had a good life. Yes, it's been hard but I've known wonderful friends, a great love and I've had a beautiful daughter and granddaughter as well as being blessed with the sweetest great-grandchildren." 

Hermione could have cried. Minerva had had a life filled with heartbreak and loss and yet she was so completely grateful and happy for it. Hermione wished that she could have an such an outlook on life, it was certainly a gift. Through the years, as Hermione come to know Minerva as a person rather than a professor, it had become so obviously clear why Albus had been in such awe of her - Minerva was remarkable, resilient and self-sacrificing. She wanted nothing in return for what she gave, she lived with whatever was thrown at her, even accepting it, Hermione would be pleased if she herself could be just a little like Minerva. 

"I have to go, darling," Minerva said, sensing Hermione's sadness. "I'm the last of my generation. I've seen everyone I love grow and now I'm going to see those who have left me. I'm quite content." 

Minerva was really the last of her time and Hermione couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be the only one left. Poppy had died six years before, not long after her husband. It seemed that no matter how bubbly and independent Poppy had seemed, it wasn't really the case. When Aberforth died, Poppy lost her will in everything and quickly deteriorated. The death of Poppy had hit Minerva hard - they had been friend for such a long time that Minerva found it difficult to be left without her. Minerva's mainstay was gone and Hermione had no idea how Minerva coped with that. 

Hermione suddenly wished that she could give Minerva what she wanted. She wished there was a way to get her to Hogwarts and she kicked herself for no having thought of that before. Of course Minerva wanted to be there. That school had been her life, a third friend, a second husband and a second child. She had dedicated her life to Hogwarts, it should have been the final place she laid in. 

"Minerva, I need you to know that-"

"I wanted to do more for you, Hermione. When your mother died, I wanted you to come and live with us. I would have raised you but your father...he thought it wasn't safe. I suppose he was partly right but I didn't fight it enough, I should have screamed and shouted-"

"Oh, no! You shouldn't worry about me," Hermione reassured her. "I might have missed out on you but I didn't have a terrible childhood. I had everything I wanted, my mother loved me and so did Dad. They did everything for me."

"But I would have done so much more," Minerva said sadly. "You were my blood and I didn't fight. I could have taken Snape," she cracked a wry smile. "I don't doubt that." 

Hermione laughed. "I think that you could have taken anyone! But you should't think about that now, it's in the past and I understand completely. If something happened to me and the only way to keep my children safe was to hide them away from their family, I would want that. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to lose my mother - if Rose died, I just..." she shook her head. 

"We live in a better world and I'm thankful that you needn't fear for either of your children," Minerva squeezed Hermione's hand. "I love them, you know. I love them as dearly as I do you and Eleanor and Albus and Poppy. I'll miss not seeing you and them."

"And I'll miss you," Hermione choked, standing and throwing her arms around Minerva. She kissed her thin cheek firmly. "I love you and I thank you for everything you have done for me." 

"And that is music to my ears, but don't thank me. You are wonderful," Minerva smiled. "But now I think I'd like a cup of tea, if you wouldn't mind." 

"Of course not!"

"Before you go downstairs, could you pass me my letter?" 

"From Albus?" 

"Yes, please," Minerva held out her hand as Hermione passed her the letter that had sat unopened next to his photo for twenty years. 

"Why have you never read it?" 

Minerva shrugged. "I'm not sure but I mean to read it on my way up...or down!" She laughed. 

"You are most certainly going up, I promise," Hermione said. "But I'll go down now." 

 

********************************************************************************************************************************

Hermione had only just left when the door clicked open again. Minerva smiled before she opened her eyes, Hermione had forgotten how Minerva liked her tea. She laughed softly as she looked at the door and was shocked to find Albus walking through. 

She immediately grinned, a school-girl grin that she always saved for him. She hadn't seen him in a long time and she suddenly felt better, all her aches and pains melted away. "Albus!" She cried. "It's so good to see you!" 

Albus smiled fondly, took a seat next to her bed and kissed her hand. "You look lovely, my dear," he said softly. 

"Hardly!" Minerva cried. "But it's very gentlemanly of you to say it."

"I mean it," he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I'm so happy to be here. I've felt half of myself without you." 

"Do you mean it?" 

"I've always meant it," he replied. "You've had a difficult life, Minerva, and I apologise for it. From now on, you are only ever going to be happy." 

"I am happy, Albus," Minerva smiled. "I'm always happy when I'm with you." 

Albus sighed and bent his head. "Not always. I want to apologise for all of the hurt I've caused you. Can you ever forgive me?" 

"There is nothing to forgive." 

"You always say that, but you are wrong. I mean for everything to be as it should be from now on," he nodded with determination. "And it's going to be."

"Well that is a relief," Minerva said lightly. "Hermione should be back in a minute. I hope she's made a pot, we didn't know that you were coming." 

"She won't be back just yet and I don't fancy a tea," he smoothed her hair away from her face. "I sat at your bedside three times. Three times you've cheated death, you've got to be the strongest woman I've ever known." 

"Three?" 

"That awful night I let you done and you nearly bled to death; when I gave in and took you to the forest and you almost died in my arms; and when you were hit by four stunners-"

"You were there?" 

He nodded. "Of course, I left before you woke up." 

Minerva shook her head. "I never knew...Why didn't you stay?" 

"How could I? I had let you go, I couldn't give you false hope-"

"Please, let's not talk about that. It still hurts to even think about that night, when you left me, and I'm tired. Very tired." 

Albus stood and leaned down to kiss her. "You should go to sleep." 

"But what if you go and don't come back?" She asked weakly. 

"I'll be there when you wake up, I promise," he replied. 

She nodded, comforted and believed him. "I'll just close my eyes for a bit, before Hermione come back."

"I love you, Minerva," he whispered in her ear. 

"I love you, Albus," she said, closing her eyes. 

And Minerva fell asleep. 

********************************************************************************************************************************

Hermione carried the tea tray up the stairs slowly, careful not to spill anything. She was smiling as she opened the door but dropped the tray when she saw Minerva. Minerva was grey but peaceful, her face smooth and still. Hermione didn't need to call out to her for it was clear enough that her grandmother was dead. She was still clutching to her letter, the top it creased. 

The last thing Hermione did was put the thin gold wedding ring, that had appeared next to Minerva on the bed, back onto her finger. She supposed it had dropped from the folded parchment and it only seemed right that Minerva should wear it. 

She had gone back to her husband. She was whole again.

 

 


	43. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! It's taken nearly two years but it's finally finished. Thank you to anyone and everyone who has read my work, or even just glanced at a few chapters. I've enjoyed writing it and hope to do some more. I've tried to not let anyone down with my story lines, even if I have played with the original work a bit. 
> 
> That's me all rambled out - thank you again! 
> 
> HJ x

_Dearest Minerva,_

_It's difficult to find words when I must. The time has come and though I have so much to say, I find it is difficult. How do I say goodbye to you? It is so final and it feels as if we never will be final._

_We've come a long way. It is hard to remember my life when you were not in it, then again, I have never put much effort into remembering a time before you were there. What would be the point? The only time that matters is the time when you were a part of my life, of my heart, and you have been for so very long. It seems that it doesn't matter how old I get, I can never learn from my mistakes. I always thought I knew what was best but I have been wrong every time. I should have just let chance guide me, or fate, I'm not sure which one carves the path of our lives, but I should never have tried to take control. It seems as if fate wanted us to be together and my fighting it has only made us both miserable._

_I am utterly miserable. Never think that my leaving you has made me happy. I had hoped that it would at least make you happy but I was wrong. I have been wrong in so many things. History will remember me as a great, powerful, all-knowing wizard but they are so very wrong. I am a fool. I have proven that many times. I should never have thought that you would be better without me - clearly you have needed me as much as I need you. I should have accepted it, I should have just suffered in my guilt but instead I dragged you into it, instead I made you unhappy. Please know that that was never my intention - I only ever wanted you to be happy and loved. You were loved, at least, even if you didn't think you were. I have always loved you, my dearest, and my cruel, spiteful words were only said to try to make everything better for you._

_As I read the words back, they seem empty and fruitless. They do not convey the intensity of my love, of my regret - I mean everything I say wholeheartedly, with complete conviction._

_And now, I must move onto the hardest part of my life. I must say goodbye, my dear, for I won't be coming back tonight. I will die and you will mourn me. Please, Minerva, do not hold onto me for too long. You must let me go and continue living on for Hermione's sake, as well as the rest of our world's. It is going to need you. Do not doubt your power or your ability, you must use it and defend those you love. You cannot give up, darling, because I am gone. You must fight, you must live. I may be gone but, Minerva, dearest, sweetest Minerva, you cannot follow me. Please don't give up - you have given enough of your life to me, I will not take anymore._

_Perhaps my request will be easier to accept if I were to tell you that I love you. Perhaps that will bring you some comfort and happiness. I love you, Mrs Dumbledore, as much I have since I care to remember. I have always been in awe of you - the way you carry heavy burdens with such grace and dignity, how kind you are, how selfless. You may not notice it but everyone around you adores you, there will not be another person like you born into the world for a very, very long time._

_I am sorry for all of the pain I have caused you and I'm_ _sorry for not having the courage to say goodbye to you in person. The thought of leaving you behind, the thought of saying goodbye to you is terrifying. I would want to kiss you, to hold you but wouldn't that make the parting more difficult? A very wise woman once made me see that I was wrong in thinking that you could stop loving me, and so I know that you do. I don't want to open a box that you have so tightly closed up only to leave you again. And this time I cannot come back to you even if I wanted too._

_My darling, I must go. I must stop writing and end this. I must say goodbye._

_I will see you again. I will come for you when the time is right and then we can be happy. I do believe that we are reunited with those whom we have loved in life, and so I will see Eleanor. And we will wait for you. Don't ever think you are alone, sweetheart, because you never will be. I love you. Completely._

_All my love, my dearest wife,_

_Albus_


End file.
